Blood is Red
by starlight2005
Summary: Prideshipping. "Yami." The duelist stopped and met Seto's gaze, aware of the reluctance and the conflict in the other's eyes. A clash of exotic red with icy blues. Their gazes narrowed, Kaiba's lips in a grim line. "Have dinner with me."
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Blood Is Red **

**Author: starlight2005**

**Pairing: Seto/Yami (probably) **

**A/N: Just so you guys won't be confused or something, I swear I'm not giving up on In Explanation. Admittedly, it isn't the best of my works and that I probably ramble there too much compared to my previous projects, but I'm not really abandoning it. Believe it or not, but it actually means something to me and to even think about not finishing it… :shudders: I'm just taking a break from writing chapter 17 because this stupid thing—I mean, err… never mind—refuses to cooperate and keep quiet as I told it to. This fic is inspired by what happened just hours ago and thank god, bro's fine. :laughs: I hope you like this. **

**By the way, this isn't one of those lengthy fics that extend to erm… 30 chapters, like You'll Be Safe Here. I'm planning on limiting this to two or three chapters because I really should finish In Explanation before college starts. Gah. So many things to finish… **

**By the way, Mindtwin (that's A-T-YGO… mindtwin, don't kill me if I get the penname wrong again…) and I have made a collab FFnet account. Look for ****Crazy Mindtwins ****in my Favorite Authors. We already have a story here but we don't know if you guys welcome the idea of the story… so read it and review, too. **

**Thanks for reading the A-notes. Read and review, okay? I want to know if you guys think I should continue this. I mean, yeah, maybe this could stand alone, as a oneshot, but who knows? So please, tell me?**

* * *

Chapter 1: Colorfully Extravagant

The hospital roared with life; a fluttery, natural chaos with nurses, their monotonous uniforms shining pristinely with whiteness, approaching and reassuring one grieving relative to a frantic other. It was what they were paid for, a job that required them to not only assist the doctors but also to safeguard the waiting families' convenience. (Then again, that was why management thought it better to put a T.V. in the waiting area). Still, the sudden boom of noise and a wave of similar terrified looks on the faces of those who wait for any news about someone who was brought in nanoseconds, seconds, minutes, hours ago, were part of the nurses' everyday, unpredictable hospital life.

When minutes ago, the silence hung in the air, occasionally disrupted by a movie star shooting the antagonist in the movie or by the sudden wails of an impatient child, there was now clatter. Chatter and silence worked in pairs, in the way an elderly lady cradled the bloodied bonnet of her grandchild, in the way the security guard tried his best to not look at the morose group of children from the back of the waiting room, all sour-faced and ready to cry. There was no more appropriate word to describe the intensity of everyone's emotions, whether grief, relief, regret, frustration or anger. It was a disheveled world, regardless of the usual moments of short-lived calmness.

There were things that did not require one to think deeply, lose oneself in his thoughts or fantasize about every what-ifs of a situation, to understand. And when the doctors, who were taking their scheduled 20-minutes break to sigh and/or drown the exhaustion with caffeine, rushed to the entrance of the emergency room with their respective nurses tailing after them, grieving, frustrated, angry relative or not, everyone knew what was going on and who that **important **person was. It was as if a quieted ant farm, devoid of any action or activity, was electrocuted into awareness; for good reason:

Mokuba Kaiba had met an accident.

As the unconscious boy was wheeled into one of the empty operation rooms—only the best service for a Kaiba— the adrenaline, the resurrection of activity in the waiting room faded. There had been a few who whispered here and there, all wanting to know what had happened, all desperate to hear the gossip over the accident, but none getting their answer. It was not enough, simply put, to watch, but the nurses knew better than to let any one of them pursue what they want… unless they want their pink slips by the end of the hour, that is.

There was shock at first, momentary paralysis and then utter disbelief. The murmurings had degenerated into an annoying buzzing sound, the only sign of life in the E.R. once again. The child, whose wails had shattered the silence before, had fallen asleep as every other person in the room stared at the young patient that had become the "star of the night", and the T.V. had been muted; no one was interested in watching, why waste electricity? Silence reigned in the air, apart from the _"Dr. Cabrerra, surgery room… Dr. Cabrerra, surgery room…" _that was often unnoticed and unheard even by the doctor in question.

The hospital had been a witness to more "exciting" activities in the past, like the parade of injured men and women, victims of an accidental explosion in the factory, or the man presumed dead and brought to the morgue gracing the terrified patients, nurses and doctors with his flesh and bones presence. Once the deemed public servants hurried to their assigned patients and tasks, the life withered away and the only thing that consumed the time of the still grieving, still waiting relatives of the injured and sick was how Mokuba Kaiba was doing.

XXX

The raven-haired boy's brother sat outside of the operation room, dazed, unbelieving, self-loathing. But no one can see that. His bangs hid how his eyes revealed the regretful, nervous soul within; and what the passers-by saw was a CEO, stoic, glaring at them as if they were the bane of his existence. **This** CEO didn't care. He cursed them silently, instantly despising whoever had the courage to turn a sympathetic stare at him. He found himself hypnotized by the redness of the blood on his hands, lured in by how they felt cold and warm at the same time.

In Chemistry class, liquids have the ability to conform to whatever size and volume of their containers, but what about now? What about the blood that stains the white marbled floor from his hands? Blood **was **liquid, reddened by hemoglobin and oxygen. Blood flowed in the veins, the capillaries and the arteries, circulating like a runner would a park. It had direction, it had a 'container', but Mokuba's blood on his hands didn't have one. No direction except that which gravity guides it to, and no container like that warm, deoxygenized liquid that rides on his body's internal vessels.

Why he didn't bother to spare himself the memory of Mokuba's frightened, teary eyes as he pulled his little brother into a tight embrace, hoping the pressure on the wound was good enough to stop the bleeding, fervently wishing his brother wouldn't feel the blood fall from the towel-covered head wound, he refused to consider. Seto Kaiba didn't bother to care about what his sanity would face later on. _"Hush, don't cry, Mokuba…" _was the only thing he could remember. The faces of his brother's classmates, the blood on the concrete railing and on the door, the echoes of the boys' crying his unconscious brother's name in alarm and concern were fading away, were just illusions that Seto wanted to forget.

Before him, the doors leading to the operation room—to his brother—still had not opened to admit anyone, or to release a _certain _someone.

"_Yvette, cancel my 3 p.m. meeting." _

"_Mr. Kaiba, sir." There was a question in the answer, a sudden action caused only by his canceling an appointment. His laptop faded into black, his screensaver, and he noticed it had done the same thing four minutes ago before he had decided to press the Esc key. _

_Seto Kaiba had a migraine, a throbbing, incessant pain that aspirins seemed to be incapable of curing—which was actually a peculiar thought, especially when they _**were **_supposed to drive it away—and all he wanted was to work on the company's latest technology _at home_._

"_I'm leaving in ten minutes," Seto answered, instead, not bothering to clarify things with his new PA. Yvette was only 22-years old and granted that the woman was older than him, the brunet was convinced that his personal assistant was good enough to adapt to every one of his demands. That's why he hired her, after all, and if she couldn't deal with that… the exit is always open and the pink slip ever ready. _

"_Mr. Kaiba, you can't—"_

"_Can't?" Oh no, Seto Kaiba _can _and he had every intention of doing whatever was presumed to be an impossibility, on his part. "Believe me, miss, I can. Tell Mr. Yamamoto that I am unavailable at this time. He can reschedule to another more convenient time," he answered._

_Ten minutes later, Seto was already turning the ignition on, hearing the engine growl. He had a reason why he favored Porsches, and it was because of that particular sound they make when you dash through the streets, uncaring, powerful and unstoppable. Seven minutes later, he had already parked his car in the garage. _

_With one hand loosening the necktie and another opening the front door, Seto entered the mansion, determined to surprise his brother, who—the CEO looked at the grandfather clock by the staircase and read 2:47 p.m.—was supposed to be eating his snacks (as Mokuba, himself, suggested) in the kitchen. Then again, Mokuba had probably started on his homework._

"Nii-sama, I had some friends come over. We're in the garden."

_Seto read the note and took it from the refrigerator before placing it on the bar. That explained the opened box of breakfast cereals, which Mokuba seem to have a liking of eating a few hours before dinner, and the empty carton of milk. He got his laptop and headed to his study, passing by the door leading to the garden, where two boys were pointing at something from the balcony. _

"_Mokuba!"_

"_Oh no, Mokuba!" _

_Had the exclamations been made purely out of excitement, or even anxiety, Seto would have dared a look and wondered what his brother was doing before continuing to his study. But those shouts weren't because they were having fun. They were distressed calls and Seto knew better than to let the fact that they were calling to __**his **__brother slip. He ran towards the nearest room, where just in time he saw Mokuba collapse to the ground._

"_Mokuba!"_

_There was blood, and there was a possibility of his brother having a concussion. Seto cursed loud enough for the younger Kaiba to open his eyes in recognition and stare at him. "Nii-sama…" Gods, Mokuba wanted to cry and Seto knew that the instant he felt the other's grip on his shirt tighten as if wanting to bury his head in his older brother's shirt—like old times. Grabbing a nearby cloth, satisfied that it was a towel, he pressed it on the wound, horrified that he wasn't there to make sure Mokuba wouldn't get hurt._

"_Hush, don't cry, Mokuba," he whispered, lifting his semi-conscious brother and heading for the car. The boy nodded as best as he could. Mokuba didn't want to disturb his brother, he didn't want to be a nuisance but right now, as he felt Seto's heartbeat race in trepidation, he knew he failed. "Nii-sama…"_

"_Mokuba, don't cry."_

_They were in the car now, with Seto giving directions to a startled Isono to take the two boys to their houses. Seto stole a glance at Mokuba, frowning at the hazy look he got in return. "Don't fall asleep, okay, Mokie?" he asked gently, talking to the other as if Mokuba had only woken up from a nightmare and was trying not to remember the horrible look on the monster's face. _

_The CEO drove like there was no tomorrow, racing through one streetlight to another and getting cursed at by other disgruntled drivers, who, though in the right way, had to stop all of a sudden lest they wanted to hit the speeding Porsche. "Nii-sama… are you angry?" Mokuba asked, pressing harder on the wound because his brother had instructed him so, but it was really, really getting hard to not fall asleep. _

_Seto skidded into a stop in front of the hospital's emergency room before rushing to open the other's door. "Mokie, we're here…" he greeted, only to pale at the sight of his unconscious brother. _

"_Sir…" _

_No, he got them in time! Mokuba wasn't supposed to lose consciousness. The injury wasn't that bad, was it? The CEO watched as more experienced people—no, nurses—carried his brother into the stretcher. _

"_Sir, will you fill out this forms, please?" _

_He didn't answer._

"_Sir…?"_

"Mr. Kaiba?" Seto forced himself to stop remembering. Remembering brought nothing but pain and regret. He didn't need them in his life if he wanted to succeed. He shook his head and faced the doctor.

XXX

Boredom kills. Even in a tight schedule, it strove to ruin the steady pacing of one's life; maybe in twenty or thirty-minute breaks, in conferences and in opening/awarding ceremonies. It didn't fail to at least convince someone to doodle or write his name again and again on two sheets of paper. And in situations where nothing can be done and no one was familiar enough to talk with, it celebrates. It wasn't enough that it rob one of the opportunity to boast of doing something worthwhile, something important, but it just had to force someone to get up and roam around. It was Yugi's fault.

"_Aibou, you know I can't go anywhere today!" _Yami shuddered, remembering their early, discreet argument. It had been at 10 o'clock, right after both of them had gone back to the game shop to change clothes. He was supposed to go to the wharf as he had planned, after all. And he was prepared to just leave, waltz out of the shop and head to where he was supposed to be. He found himself staring at his light, instead.

"_But Yami… I have to go to Anzu's house this afternoon! We have a project to finish, remember?" _If Yugi had only thought about he and his girlfriend's project weeks before the actual deadline, which was two days from now, then Yami, whose glaring match with the wall in front of him ended seconds ago when he decided that he couldn't waste his time anymore, wouldn't be forced to spend the entire afternoon praying Grandpa Motou's annual check-up would end. It was unnerving to think that he, being the King of Games (as he is currently dubbed), had an uncanny disability at defeating boredom with its own game.

He sighed and looked for a vending machine. Vending machines meant candies and chocolate bars. There's a possibility they even _happen _to sell potato chips, too, which would definitely be a bonus if Yami can find where those blasted machines were. Of course, it would also help if the nurse by the front desk would stop looking at him like he was a walking something—a dessert, probably. He heard from Yugi that girls often see guys that way. Yami inwardly shuddered.

Had Yami any idea that he was quite that far from the west wing, where the doctor's office was, he would realize that he was headed to the emergency room, but he hadn't. Not that he'd notice any time soon, though; not when Yugi was having a _mental _verbal spar with his dark on whether it was appropriate for him to send the nurses to the Shadow Realm for laughing at his obvious discomfort. Why do they hide the vending machines anyway? What purpose will it serve, other than lowering profit?

Until he found one, that is: a coffee machine, in all its glory, standing innocently just a few feet away from him. Caffeine worked wonders on the sleep-deprived mind. Aside from the fact that it keeps one awake (and preferably, hyper), it also purifies… or so Jonouchi said one day… the blood. How it could do that, Yami didn't want to know. Why he even asked Jonouchi—of all people—the former pharaoh couldn't properly answer. Still, caffeine was caffeine, and the more he had in his system right now, the more energy he had in store for whatever he had planned to do later.

The monarch approached the machine as he reached for the exact amount from his pocket. He realized that he had forgotten his sweater in the office and he muttered a quick 'damn it' as prayer for the damned piece of clothing. Just as he was about to press on the beverage of his choice, he saw a flurry of white from the side, and he turned.

"Kaiba?"

Seto didn't look at the owner of the voice, hiding his annoyance at the disbelieving tone his rival had with a frown. "What do you want?" he accused, knowing better than to believe that their meeting was mere coincidence and completely unbothered by the suspicion that laced his question as he gripped on his cup of coffee tightly. There was also the question of why the one person he didn't want to see was actually in front of him as of the moment.

But Yami hadn't noticed any of the suspicion or irritation. He was distracted by the sight of the dried blood—a squeamish sight, come to think of it—on Seto's hands. There were stains of the same dried liquid on his rival's clothes. "What happened?" nearly murmured, all thoughts of coffee wiped away by what he saw before him. He couldn't tell his admittedly, obsessed at times rival just how awkward he looked like, and Yami couldn't help but be concerned. If it weren't for how utterly devastated the CEO looked, the pharaoh can foolishly deduce that the other had **killed**someone; apparently, Seto was devastated enough to shut such thoughts up.

Still…

Blood ruined Seto Kaiba's untouchable, perfect façade. It told the world of his rival's secret—that heartless, powerful Seto was no god; that he was human, after all. Yami didn't need to see how the image fit Seto Kaiba, well the Seto Kaiba he dueled with, or if it even fit the CEO at all.

There was no answer to his question. Typical Seto. Yami frowned and finally noticed the barely noticeable shaking of the other's hands. All too human Seto meant his weaknesses were there to be exploited. It meant more opportunities and greater chances at hurting the seemingly invulnerable man. It didn't help that the whole world knew what—_who—_Seto Kaiba's weakness is. Chances, however, of the CEO getting through these 'disasters' were higher than that of him getting hurt. His rival would survive, not only because he refused to give up easily, but also because admittedly, Seto was a good man whose friends (no matter if the billionaire refuses to see them as one) would willingly protect him.

That didn't mean Seto didn't need help.

"Did something happen to Mokuba?"

"What's it to you?"

Yami watched as the other spared him one final glare before turning around and walking away, probably to where Mokuba was staying. Seto needed help—he does from time to time, too—but why can't he accept it when it's being offered?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Before I start ranting (I'm sure you won't bother to read the rest of the notes, anyway, so I'll rant later), I want to thank the eight special people who reviewed the first chapter. Special mention to dragonlady222, Mindtwin (I'm not going to bother typing the penname because I'll get it wrong YET AGAIN), Yami Val, Dragon (Reblue Eyes) and Tragedyluver. Also to an anonymous reviewer named, Risako. Thank you very much to the people who reviewed, I love you guys to bits! **

**As promised, here is my rant: Gods. Never again shall I dare write and type a chapter while my dad constantly—and seriously, do people here never get the fact that I want to be alone even for a few hours?!—passes by. It's scary. OO I had to like, check my back from time to time to see if anyone could read what I'm typing. Okay, granted that this isn't really an M-rated chapter or something, but man, some **_**people **_**here seem to think that anything beyond house chores and the usual family activities is a waste of time! -sighs- Weird.**

**This is going to sound very, very, **_**very **_**embarrassing but can anyone tell me what they want to see? Like, any ideas for Seto-Yami interaction? I'm afraid I'm running out of them. **

**Thanks again, and review, okay? I swear I work faster when people grace me with their comments. Heck, you can even bash me if you want. LOL. I'm weird. **

**CHAPTER DEDICATIONS: dragonlady222, Tragedyluver, Mindtwin, Reblue Eyes (**_**Dragon… nudgenudge)**_**, Risako, Yami Val, barrie18, and kiki2222.**

* * *

Chapter 2: Frightening Revelations

There was a coffee shop: a small business establishment that not only offered the best coffee in town, though it takes more than false advertising to actually prove this fact, for a 'reasonable' price, but also a fully air-conditioned place for people to sit and do what sensible beings do when not in a hassle, chat. The chatter was made more of little groups, of two to three persons sitting near the air-con, the bookshelves, on the bean bags, by the pastry section. The result? A long, seemingly endless talk about absolute nonsense.

Seto Kaiba found it ridiculous, to sit through one hour and the next, sliding from one conversation to another as if there weren't enough days in the world for two people who sit side-by-side in the office to converse. Had they been talking about the latest break in modern technology—which of course, was made only by Kaiba Corporations—or perhaps, even who was winning in the race of stock exchange (if it was even a race, to begin with); then things would have been different. Instead, these _people _choose to pay for expensive caffeinated beverages and babble about gossip. Pathetic. Then again, it wasn't his loss. **He**, after all, wasn't wasting any of his time, with the exception of that _lone _minute he spared himself to wonder about the other customers' uncanny desire to not do anything significant.

Still, he was a businessman first and foremost; and being one of the most successful in the field, he knew well enough how the shop profited from the babblers. By the time he got his coffee—black and nothing else—he concluded that a coffee shop, though littered by human beings of all ages and occupations who had gone there for one specific reason (other than buy coffee), was a clever, clever thing. People wasted their time; however, chatting and sitting meant more chances of them buying the offered pastries. **Clever. **

He could easily send Isono to get him the beverage, why he didn't, he really had no patience left to ponder about that. How many hours have passed since Mokuba was admitted into a suite and received the best of medical care? Seto stole a glance at his reflection in the glass doors of the hospital. Bloodshot eyes, disheveled hair of brown, rumpled **bloodied **clothes… gods, he looked terrible. And the yawn, which took the CEO aback simply because of the fact that he couldn't have yawned in public, didn't help.

Two days ago, he had woken up and damned the alarm clock with a loud smack. The pain barely even registered in his sleep-deprived mind as he blindly walked towards the bathroom for a nerve-wracking, ice-cold shower. He found out that freezing to death in the shower was better than drowning in cups and cups of coffee. Every day, he did the same thing. It was routine: get up, smash alarm clock, shiver and wince in bath, dress into uniform, get fully re-charged laptop, make breakfast for Mokuba, flip newspaper to Business Section, get forced to eat breakfast, then go to school. Two days ago, he had a precise schedule he was determined to follow until the last of his days. That was also the last time Kaiba, businessman and 'tyrannical' (or so _they _said, he preferred the word 'driven') ever woke up from something.

"Nii-sama…?"

Mokuba's question greeted him the moment he wearily closed the door. Seto lifted his gaze, "Yes, Mokie, I'm here." He paused, noticing a disapproving frown on his raven-haired brother's face. Mokuba was concerned, and he knew that. But he did not see the point of the younger Kaiba worrying too much. Where was the fuss? After all, _he _didn't have three stitches on his head. "Seto, you're tired. Please go home." Gray-shaded eyes were wide with pleading and concern, as the owner sighed at his CEO of a brother, who simply sat and ignored the request.

Outside, Isono stood patiently, obediently. The doctors, all moving from the west wing to the east, or the other way around, sent him their version of confusion before walking away; the nurses, some giggling at something giggle-able all the way to their stations, spared him curious looks before slowly dragging themselves towards their destinations. Not that Isono cared. He waited until the Kaibas were finished with their usual, private conversation—and hearing Mokuba Kaiba ask his brother to rest was a conversation he couldn't ever dare think as non-private—before knocking. "Enter," the CEO instructed him. Pride was an important thing for his boss and its value, Isono, deep inside the recesses of his subservient mind, knew and understood how Seto Kaiba felt. It was one thing to lose to the King of Games; however, it was a completely different matter to place one's memories with the said rival in a hidden, overly-protected cavern in his world.

Isono knew of Seto Kaiba's many secrets, and as he entered the room, the sight of an exhausted, blue-eyed young man before him became one of them.

"Has the Board been notified of my absence in today's meeting?" The executive asked, leaning now on the armrest of the provided chair. "Yes, sir," Isono replied. Mokuba watched the exchange in righteous anger—though how frequent this rather odd emotion grace the being of 'such a sweet kid' like him is a question that remains unanswered—and swore to ban his older brother from working into the next decade the moment he is released. "Good." The man bowed and quietly left. Seto and Mokuba stared at each other, just like the time Kaiba was merely another faceless name in the news. Back then, as two young children look at the orphanage that will be their new home, azure eyes glimmered with so much promise as the owner vowed to protect 'Mokie' to the best of his abilities, forever and ever…

"_Nii-sama_, what are you doing to yourself?"

It had been remarked out of exasperation, but the underlying message was clear. Seto looked away and chose the excitement of the stilled trees as his new object of fascination. How… interesting. "I'm fine, Mokuba." It was the same answer—**always**; the only three words the brunet would willingly answer the question with. The younger Kaiba folded his arms in annoyance. "Why can't I even worry about you, nii-sama? This is so unfair!" Seto wanted to scoff, or at least make his brother stop asking needless questions. Irritation ebbed, a fire ignited by an overworked mind.

"Go to sleep, I'll be alright, Mokie."

What a lie. Seto Kaiba may be a genius, and probably the only one who can make Bill Gates and some sultans a run for their money, but he had bodily needs. And at this instance, as Mokuba sighed in temporary defeat; Seto, billionaire, child prodigy and eligibly aloof bachelor, needed to sleep.

He could sleep right here, a few distances away from his brother. His eyelids felt heavy, as if ready to collapse had they been human beings and capable of standing upright. Seto's head hurt, working in tandem with the image of a frightened, wounded boy who wanted to do nothing else but to bury his head in his brother's chest and clung like the mere embrace will shield him from everything that wanted to harm him. That had been the only comfort Seto could give as Mokuba's blood soaked the towel and stained his pride as –

"_Are these tickets to the amusement park, nii-sama?" _

_Mokuba was six years old and jumping in joy as the brown-haired boy nodded and grinned .It had cost him all of his savings that would give him at least one month to contact every family member he knew and ask them to take his brother and him away from the orphanage. Until they chanced upon a huge, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to go to a park on a newspaper ad. Mokuba had stared at his brother then turned away, knowing he wouldn't be able to go even if he begged the caretakers to bring them there. _

"You're the **best **brother in the world!"

_Mokuba hugged tightly as Seto embraced his little brother back. There was laughter and jokes on that day; six hours with nothing to worry about, with no reminder that 'dad killed himself after mom died'. No lies for this day, no 'dad was lonely, Mokie' and no threat to separate Seto from his darling brother should he punch the brat—ah, Justine—again. That day, full of everything both of them would have experienced had they not lost their parents, was bright._

Seto blinked wearily, his eyes hurting as he rested his head on his hand. It was really getting harder.. to not… fall… asleep.

XXX

The hands, one longer, the other shorter, moved for every passing minute and second. A third one raced ahead, faster and traveling in seconds. The Kame Game Shop was closed, the people managing the years-old shop leaving to go from one appointment to another. Inside the building, Grandpa Motou gave the only sign of life through the sounds he made as he slept the night off. Beside the cash register, a beeping sound broke whatever semblance of inactivity that flooded the place. The number flashed repeatedly on the LCD, the caller been calling since 7:02 P.M., and yet, after two hours, no one was yet to answer.

The front door opened suddenly, a tri-haired teen entered and shrugged his sweater off. Crimson-red eyes caught the blinking red light from the side. "Hey, Yami… Hey, Yugi… can you drop by the hospital? I'm in the third floor, room 213." It sounded like Mokuba. Why wouldn't the caller be? It **was** the younger Kaiba, after all. Yami was relieved and honestly glad that his rival's brother was alright, but if Mokuba called, where was Seto?

"Yami, you're home."

The teens stared at each other, the recorded message being played for the sake of the amethyst-eyed Motou. "Let's go," Yugi insisted and sighed as the sound of someone colliding into the closed door reverberated in the air. They saw Jonouchi recover and push the door, as if the mere act would actually open it when it was locked, as Yami good-heartedly opened it for him. "Jonouchi, Yugi and I need to go somewhere. Can you look after Grandpa for tonight, please?" The blond nodded and scampered off to the sofa. A few seconds later, Honda knocked. What greeted them was a drenched, furious brown-haired boy.

"**Yami?"**

The car cruised slowly enough to follow the speed limit, as the King of Games grunted a response. He knew better than to expect and think that his rival would call him should something happen. It had never been enough for cold electric blue-eyed Seto Kaiba that Yami only wanted to help, after all. Not that he blamed the other; actually, it wasn't difficult to understand Seto's trust issues. "Why can't I understand you completely?" he mused as the brunet's flippant _"What's it to you?"_ popped in his head. Yami felt his aibou shake his head. From a distance, the hospital appeared in plain view.

The hospital was fairly peaceful. Gone was the unsettling feeling to be better than great, to overwork as if being perfectly and simply 'capable' was not enough. It was as if, as the nurses and the doctors received one patient after another, someone that can easily send any one of them home **jobless **was watching their every move. Such was Seto Kaiba's power… and it seemed hat the flury of life and panic that go with his name were easing into a reasonable 'quiet' normalcy. There were still a handful of little boys limping and crying with their bandaged arms and hurt knees; and elderly men and women being wheeled in and out but compared to what had happened before, **this **was calmer.

Yami and Yugi didn't stop to notice them, though, as they headed to the third floor. As they opened the door, what greeted them was the sight of—and rare sight it is, indeed—Seto Kaiba sleeping, seated on the chair before a very much awake and smiling Mokuba. Exhausted, vulnerable human Seto didn't know that his brother had called the two 'visitors' earlier. As his rival silently approached him, to get closer to the injured Kaiba, he dreamed of nothingness, a usual world of darkness that the mind indulges with as it recuperates and nods off. Had this been anyone else—preferably Jonouchi—Yami would have snickered into his hand or, bit down a smug smile. But this was his rival, and instead of being amused, there was a sudden need to wake the CEO up and drive him home to sleep.

"How long have you been awake, Mokuba?" Yami asked, seeing the patch of bandage on the other's head. "Ten minutes. I was planning to send nii-sama home. He's tired and he hasn't even left the hospital," Mokuba shrugged as he met the crimson-eyed teen's gaze, not really meaning that it was entirely a **bad **thing to be left alone but a quick look at his sleeping brother shut that thought up. Yami nodded, knowing and expecting that from the stubborn CEO. "Nor has he rested, it seems," he continued for Mokuba. "How are you?" he asked of the boy as an after thought. His mind, however, was preoccupied with ways to convince his rival to take a break.

"Please make him rest, Yami," Mokuba answered, instead.

It was natural for Mokuba to ask that from Yami. Not that he wasn't worried about being too straightforward and demanding… oh no, not really. There was concern in the other's lively, carmine eyes whenever his older brother was discussed, and Mokuba, being the good little brother that he is, always take the time to notice even though Seto doesn't. His nii-sama once told him, before Gozaburo dragged blue-eyed, barely smiling little Seto into a hellish life consisting of impossibility and unreachable expectations, that absolutely **no one **else was important. _'We don't need anyone else, Mokie. I'm here, you're here…' _It was a proud statement, what Seto Kaiba said, but he was a child. It was a child's promise, and Mokie, sweet, little Mokie believed his older brother even as he bade the other goodnight and watch his older brother study and work beyond the capabilities of his body.

It had taken Mokuba a few years and surprisingly, some heartbreak to understand his brother. But Yami, from the moment he waltzed into their lives and stole one of the three things that Seto valued, took merely a few minutes from every duel to break through his defenses. Admittedly, Mokuba felt that Yami should give his brother a chance to reclaim his title; but it doesn't work that way. They valued their pride—his brother's rival and his older brother—and their expectations were the only things that they want to meet. The raven-haired boy found himself unable to stop trusting Seto with Yami.

"I will," Yami promised, understanding the benefit of doubt the younger Kaiba was giving him. He understood Mokuba's desire to protect Seto, the same way his rival had done to his younger brother all these years. The King of Games turned to look at his aibou, who had closed the door quietly and grinned at him, revealing two chairs.

"I'll stay with Mokuba," Yugi told his dark. It was at that moment that the CEO's eyes widened in alarm, jolted awake by a dream, which resembled a falling feeling, the same feeling one gets when he falls from a chair in slow motion for everyone to see. It was weird, but Seto was too surprised to see two spiky-haired teens in the same room as he is that he couldn't remember what he even dreamed about. "What are you doing here?" His frown hid his confusion and curiosity. It was meant to go that way but Yami merely frowned at him in return. Inwardly, sure, he was mortified by the fact that he fell asleep when he shouldn't have… but as familiar, annoyingly worried crimson eyes land on him, he felt his embarrassment fading into anger. As usual.

Seto Kaiba scowled and met his rival's gaze. "While I appreciate your visiting Mokuba, I will appreciate it even more if you leave shortly. He needs to rest," he pointed out in what Yami thought to be as the CEO's arrogant, don't-question-my-snobbish-self voice. He fought the temptation to sarcastically roll his eyes at the azure-eyed duelist. "We **are **leaving," he answered, instead, and rose from his seat. "Goodbye, Mokuba," he bade. The CEO blinked and narrowed his gaze at Yugi, who merely sagged into his chair and smiled. "Aren't you leaving?" he demanded and frowned when the other shook his head. Yami sighed and raised an eyebrow at the oblivious executive, "Do you have any idea how fast traffic builds up on the way to **your **mansion?"

"You have to rest, nii-sama," Mokuba explained.

"I'm not leaving," was Seto's reply, unyielding to his brother's pleading gaze.

"Nii-sama…"

"Kaiba—"

"Well, I'm **not** so you can forget it," Kaiba told Mokuba and then turned to his rival. "And who said you're part of **this**? I'll do whatever I want, Yami."

Yami had enough and walked towards the scowling CEO. "Don't you care about yourself?" he questioned, shaking his head and dragging the other to rise. "Well, I **do**. We're going to your mansion and **you're **going to rest." Seto pulled his hand back and glared at his rival. They shouldn't meddle with his affairs—especially Yami! It was embarrassing enough to lose to the spiky-haired teen in front of him, and to have the duelist tell him what to do… that was just unbelievably revolting. "I don't need to listen to you. I can do this by myself—"

"You can continue on your I-don't-need-your-help tirade later," Yami received another scowl. Does the CEO never do anything else but frown and scowl? He shook his head. "Despise me later, Kaiba; for now, for God's sake, take a break! I'm sure an intelligent person like you can understand, right?" Yami didn't care as Seto scoffed at him. He could even feel his aibou's gaze fall on him as Mokuba turned his own at his brother. "What use will you be if you can't even keep yourself from sleeping?"

Seto turned away and met the concerned grays that landed on him as he drowned out traitorous thoughts that keep repeating just how Motou—his rival!—was right. "Fine."

XXX

"I don't get you."

Two hours were enough for him, it wasn't that important, after all. What he needed was a break, and two long hours of sleep was nothing else but that break Seto needed. The drive home, even though he quite adamantly made it a point that he was the one driving them back since there was absolutely no way that he would let Yami—no matter how exhausted he is—use his car, was short. In fact, after he watched the other head to the kitchen to do something Seto didn't bother to know because Yami Motou may be his rival but he wasn't some cold-blooded killer (besides, if he was, the CEO was sure that he could easily defend himself), Seto went straight to his bedroom.

Which is why, two hours and ten seconds later, to be exact, he found himself in the dining hall with his crimson-eyed rival.

"What's that, Kaiba?"

"You're not supposed to help me." No one was; and no one could. It was something he had learned years ago, as he stifled the tears of disappointment that he couldn't prevent from pooling his eyes whenever one couple after another leaves the orphanage without him and Mokuba. 'I'll help' was nothing more than a promise that no one had the guts or ability to fulfill; so why was this teen before him implying a promise of the same thing?

"Well, I **am**, aren't I?"

Seto scowled, baited by the response. "You **can't**," he countered and looked at the well-made food before him. This was ridiculous. How difficult is it to understand that he didn't want help, anyway? Seto Kaiba survived hell, went there, kicked the Devil's ass and went back—alive, sure he was missing some parts, but still, he went back and that was the point. He had been through so many things in the past, in Gozaburo's clutches, being forced to create inventions to hurt other boys' baby brothers, fathers, mothers, sisters… why, after all this time, would he suddenly ask _and _need someone else's help? "No one must help—"

"Must help? I can't? Is it because I'm unable to…" Yami countered, "… or you just don't want me to?"

"What do you get in return? What do you want for helping me?" And here it was, **the **question. That one query that would confirm Seto's thoughts and theories, that no one would willingly help. The spiky-haired teen, after all, even though he made him breakfast and all, was still his rival, someone Seto would eventually defeat. He watched as Yami leaned closer, their faces just a few inches apart and felt the other duelist's breath ghost on his lips. Seto merely scowled at the observation.

"A 'thank you' would be nice…" Then Yami grinned good-heartedly, because it was his nature to do so. To smile and pretend everything was alright, even though it wasn't. Even though in Seto's point of view, it never would be. He loathed the King of Games even more, imagining the underlying smugness of the remark. They **were **rivals, two different persons—strangers!—pitted against each other; one was bound to lose, another to win. It was their game, it was their world and this… this sudden just-thank-me attitude surely did not belong. It didn't! "I don't believe you," the CEO replied.

"Then believe what you want," Yami had moved away now, bringing his plate to the sink, leaning on it as he focused his attention on the stubborn man before him. "I'll be here to help you anyway, even if you ask for it or not."

"You can't expect me to believe that," the executive answered, refusing to admit that he wanted to. Rival or not, Yami _had _been there in the past—Duelist Kingdom, Battle City, the Dartz ordeal, KC Grand Prix, **every god-forsaken time. **But no one needed to know that. He heard the King of Games sigh, and in exasperation or agreement, Seto didn't boher to know. Nor would he ever dream of wanting to. Besides, this entire thing wouldn't have confused him so if it weren't for Yami stealing the title from him—

and what was he, a troublesome six-year old? Seto silently growled at himself.

"Some things don't require payment of any sort, Kaiba."

"Bullshit."

"Then, what do you want me to want, Kaiba? Money? Fame? Your humiliation?" Yami countered, questioning the other's decision to repay for the favor. He walked towards Seto, who merely drank his water, and grabbed the glass away. "Would it _kill _you to simply thank me? Is that too much for your over-inflated ego to bear?"

He didn't know why he even bothered to care. Seto Kaiba, pride personified, would do well on his own, as the CEO continuously points out. Heck, the man wasn't even someone remotely close to him, excluding the fact that said man was his cousin in their previous life; so why did he meddle so much? Yami had pride, too, and if he valued it, he ought to know that it was better to leave resisting, I-don't-want-your-help people like Seto behind and move on with his life. After all, why waste such valuable thing, why throw your pride away for someone who doesn't have plans to appreciate it?

"I don't understand why you'd rather lose your soul to 'pay me back' when all I wanted was a simple 'thank you'," Yami told him and then stepped out, heading to somewhere, anywhere in the mansion that would give him a few minutes to think. Seto sat there, watching, glaring as if what the crimson-eyed duelist did was unacceptable. The other's words echoed in his head infuriatingly.

On their way back, Yami looked outside the window, interested by the blur everything has become, metaphorically and literally speaking. As Kaiba concentrated on the road, he chose to drown himself with thoughts to leave his rival alone. He was going to Egypt soon, to where he belongs and at least there, he wouldn't have to see such a confusing person like Seto, anymore. That was good, wasn't it? Yami frowned in response. It wasn't, it never was. One's memories were said to be important, and for him, it was. It was the only real possession he has left in the world, and even that, he couldn't have. Then perhaps it was simple enough to understand that he wanted a certain someone to see the importance of the past, too? Well, Seto Kaiba doesn't see it that way. And honestly, as Yami stole a quick glance at the blue-eyed brunet, it really hurt.

They were two different persons, and he could never force his rival to change. Change was not something one can impose on another, even if he was a former pharaoh and the other, his subject. That was just… unreasonable, but to have his efforts ignored, to be once again forgotten? To be treated as a rival, not even as a friend when what Yami wanted was to be seen as someone who **can **actually understood Kaiba? That was a piece of truth that's becoming hard to bear.

"Thanks for the ride," he gestured as he opened the door the moment the CEO parked the car. The silence unnerved him, Seto admitted to himself but he didn't have the heart to ask why. Yami was normally the talkative one, the one who'd start the conversation no matter how unwanted it is. That was just, well, that was Yami, and Seto Kaiba had been accustomed to that. And to think that this only started after their brief verbal spar in the dining hall—no, that wasn't possible. His rival wasn't as over-emotional as those idiots he hung out with. "Whatever," Seto said. He heard the King of Games sigh and watched the other leave, headed likely to where Yugi was. The CEO shook his head and glanced at his brother's doctor.

Seto Kaiba nodded and approached the elderly man.

"Good morning, Mr. Kaiba…"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I know you guys must really, really hate me right now; what with me promising that "I work faster when people grace me with their comments". It's stupid, really, how everything seemed to seriously conspire against me. Okay, honestly, it's weird, too because I surely was NOT expecting my computer to go ballistic and die on me. Yes, people, my PC crashed and it's going to be reformatted. (groans) Stupid **_**thing**_**. **

**Well, anyway, to the ten people who reviewed chapter two, please have this chapter as a token of my thanks. It's really feels great to hear from you guys—especially Yami Val and barrie18. Oh, and Tragedyluver, I just LOVE you. (huggles) Ahem. Which reminds me… Chapter 2 had quite a lot of typographical mistakes. I hate it. Apparently, my mind refuses to function properly when it lacks the sufficient amount of sleep. And yes, yes, I'm foolish enough to think that I can escape the consequences of having a typo-littered chapter. (sighs) I really AM so sorry about that.**

**On the moment this comes out, it will only be a few days before college starts. I'm only a freshman, though, so I'm not exactly **_**that **_**burdened with my subjects; however, I am trying to get into the Dean's list. I'm not saying this because I want to be oh-so-proud of a petty goal. It's just that… granted that I do have a lot of time, I want to dedicate most of them to my studies—**

**Which means, my updates will be limited to twice a week. Expect ****Blood is Red ****to be updated every Monday because my schedule loves me and it gives me Monday as a 'day off'. ****In Explanation****, surprisingly, will not be dropped. Oh hells, no. After talking with Stranded4Ever, Mindtwin, Dragon and some FB friends I decided that I shall finish it. Updates for that story will be posted perhaps during the weekends. Sunday, preferably. **

**Then again, I'm random and I can't stop myself from being random. So, well… who knows? Maybe I can update frequently. (shrugs) By the way, I'm aware that I promised you guys the 'have dinner with me' scene in this chapter. I changed my mind. I'll put it in the next chapter. This is already quite long and I wouldn't want to burden you so much… so next chapter, okay? **

**Anyway, this is so long…(gapes) Oopsies. Do drop a review. I really want to know what you think. Please? **

**CHAPTER DEDICATIONS: AT-Y-YGO (Mindtwin! And ha, I got your penname right this time!), barrie18, Reblue Eyes (Dragon! (nudgenudge), xDeepestEndx, kiki2222, AtemusloverSapphire, Tragedyluver (huggles), dragonlady222 (Oh gosh, you still know me. I'm so flattered! (huggles)), Yami Val, Stranded4Ever (Thanks for all the help, your majesty)**

* * *

Chapter 3: Sudden Truce

It was too early to be chaotic. The hospital settled with tranquility, a wave of nothing, like hushed whispers in a vast, majestic chamber. There were no menacing security guards blocking relatives from the operation rooms, or impatient, sleep-deprived head nurses refusing one stranger after another from seeing this and that patient. In the wee hours of the morning, when most patients, whether recovering or gasping their last breaths, still slept, the establishment was anything except an angry outburst of panic and disorder. The glass walls of the break room even seemed to expand with every personnel that entered, as if providing them more space. Walls were said to have ears, listening to every believable gossip and scandal, and here, it seemed to listen intently.

There were those who were unfortunate enough to have a schedule that required them to work at such hour, and for the new ones, the grudge was seen in their stomps towards and from one patient's room to another. As their colleagues flocked the break rooms and lockers, changing, relaxing, enjoying the coffee and the company, they checked the blood pressure and the current status of every confined person. How… wonderful. Not that Seto Kaiba noticed as he met the doctor's gaze; and though hidden by the man's spectacles, he knew well enough that before him stood someone who's actually wondering why the CEO was out in the hallways when he should be with his brother. Wisdom was brought about by age, but not even the wisest could decipher what _the _eldest Kaiba was feeling even though inwardly his anxiety stomped mercilessly on his heart.

Seto was a goal-setter, and that has never been questioned. From the moment he grabbed the ropes of Kaiba Corporations years ago, sending the company straight to the top of the business world to being one of the best duelists in the planet, he had achieved so many things. He scowled. The fact that he was wasting his time thinking about things he already knew about infuriated his still-sleep-deprived mind. (Two hours were never really enough for an exhausted mind, after all.) Because accomplishments meant one more thing: failure, and gods, he despised that word. Failure meant memory after memory; meant the day he accidentally leaned on a vase and sent it crashing on the floor that earned him many a beating afterwards and the night he rocked his baby brother back to sleep as he wondered why his father had yet to come home. Hours later, he would realize how permanent that notion would become.

He hated that boy. He hated that blue-eyed, frail boy even more than his dead adoptive father, not that Gozaburo ever became one, per se. Seto, years before he claimed the Kaiba name for his own and did oh-so-many unbelievable things, was such a pitiful kid, always expecting his dad to be there, always _waiting _for someone to save them. Until that fateful day. But that doesn't change the fact that his weakness was disgusting. Some older brother he was, all right. _'Dad will be here, Mokie' _was an empty reassurance that even remembering how it sounded as his sincere eyes met Mokuba's innocent gray ones made Seto shudder inwardly. Oh, he was pathetic; and as he face his brother's doctor now, the CEO realized that the boy he forced to kill within himself, hadn't died at all and was actually trembling with sickening fear.

"Will Mokuba be okay?"

It was blurted out for the same reason he had demanded Yami Motou to leave him alone time and time again. Then again, it was the only line of thought that could shut his childish, fervent and meaningless wishes up. Failure under the Kaiba name brought disasters far more horrible than losing a father; and Seto _Kaiba _breathed that philosophy like second air. Wasn't it ironically amusing, then, that though he had defeated the family patriarch in his own game, the brunet still couldn't convince himself that he hadn't really lost? Whatever happened to his 'undying' vow to protect Mokuba? Normally, he would have laughed—wry, sarcastic, secretly flabbergast—but the desire to laugh at his own misery was oddly missing.

The doctor smiled at him, gentle and patient like he had always been. Old age must have worn him out, Seto mused distractedly. "Mokuba will be under observation for a month, Mr. Kaiba," the man replied, understanding the rushed, anticipating feeling the brunet's eyes revealed. Seto had been 10 years old, remarkably stubborn and arrogant already, when the doctor first saw him. The CEO had stood before him, hair ruffled, eyes watering in pain as he clutched his arm; and demanded to be released with "a clean bill of health immediately".

"I'll be taking him tomorrow night. I don't think there's a problem with that?"

It was meant to be a smug question, one that left no room for any kind of opposition. He didn't expect anyone to raise another annoying 'But Mr. Kaiba—!' The doctor chuckled, instead; not even the slightest intimated by the powerful, death-glaring brunet who had been his determined, I'm-fine-even-when-I-can't-walk patient in the past. "Of course, Mr. Kaiba. Remember, your brother is now more prone to attitude changes and bouts of exhaustion. Should this happen, please inform me right away," the elderly man answered. Seto responded with a curt nod and excused himself.

Few earned Seto Kaiba's respect; said small number of people dared even to openly coax him into conversations that he never really participates in; and as he walked towards his brother's room, he knew Dr. Kyousuke Washimaru was one of those especially rare people. He opened the door and was instantly greeted by a satisfied, smiling Mokuba. Why he expected Yami to still be there, probably sitting beside his raven-haired brother, talking about the most random of topics, was beyond him.

"_Does the sky cry, nii-sama?" _A patient smile, all-knowing in the eyes of a trusting, little brother was the response. _"Why do you say so, Mokuba?" _An honest question, wanting to know why such question was asked; and what he got was a simple reply:

"_It rains. Those are the sky's tears, aren't they?" _

"Feeling better?" the CEO asked of his brother. Mokuba nodded, aware of Seto's mild confusion and who the brunet was looking for. Yami and Yugi had left mere minutes ago after the former pharaoh entered, surprisingly with an unrevealing, sad smile and said that they needed to leave. There was nothing the younger Kaiba could do at that time; it felt like he was an intruder in the two's private space, after all. So he nodded and bade them goodbye, unaware to the concerned looks Yugi was shooting at his yami.

Mokuba watched Seto frown. "Nii-sama?" Unsure, curious, trailing off… the question caught Seto's attention. Had this been about the company, Mokuba would have reassured his executive of a brother that nothing bad could ever happen at the moment; but that frown meant something else. And he was sure it didn't concern Kaiba Corporations whatsoever. Seto Kaiba frowned most of the time; and this one—no matter how awkward the idea of having different frowns (though most of the time, they all look the same) for every situation—was reserved for those special moments the CEO thought with his rival. Whether it was out of disdain, a promise of vengeance, disappointment or of something else, Mokuba didn't know.

"I'm sorry, Mokie…" It was out of the blue. Spontaneous. Where were Seto's thoughts leading to?

"Nii-sama?"

The younger Kaiba knew so many things about his older brother, and he knew Seto well enough to refrain from expecting the other to apologize verbally. His blue-eyed brother makes mistakes, too—he was human, still—but chances of him actually apologizing when he would usually put words into actions, because that's just how Seto Kaiba worked, are quite **low**. It wasn't a problem because Seto does apologize in the things he does, Mokuba thought. But why was he apologizing in the first place? The need to suddenly be there all the time, to be Mokuba's constant protector honestly confused the raven-haired boy a lot.

There was a familiar glint in his eyes, light gray irises shone with a want to know. As Seto ruffled his brother's unruly mane, the action comforting him, his thoughts wandered away. The doctor said Mokie would be alright, and Seto was really relieved about that. Times like this were familiar, seemed like a far-away dream where he'd sneak into the other's room to accompany his sick brother. The mornings that followed became mere illusions of an oh-so-wonderful life as he flinched at every blow he received from his _loving _pseudo-father. But they were worth it, weren't they? The CEO looked at Mokuba, his smile appearing for once in his frown-stained face. Because though he denied the pain of every hit, he can't deny that seeing Mokuba smile at him and hearing sleepy mumbles of 'Goodnight, nii-sama' were more important.

"If I hadn't gone home early, you could have bled to death," Seto told Mokuba. He could think about anything else but that wouldn't change the fact that Mokuba could have met a graver fate… and it will be Seto's fault for letting that happen. "I'm okay now, nii-sama," the younger Kaiba answered, instead; smiling as if what the CEO told him hardly mattered. Seto raised an eyebrow at the response.

"You worry too much," Mokuba continued.

The executive frowned, his brother's remark unconsciously reminding him of his rival. Crimson-red eyes flashed in his mind—narrowed with challenge, slightly widened by amusement, soft with sincere— oh gods, why was he even thinking about Yami? "Will they visit later?" It was a lost cause, to know why he asked such a ridiculous question, but the damage was done. Besides, he needed to know so he wouldn't be surprised to see a smirking, smug Yami, who always looked like he knew a secret Seto wasn't allowed to know. 'Damn him,' the blue-eyed duelist thought in response.

"Yugi would," Mokuba answered. Seto unconsciously scowled, the action caught by his observant not-so-little-anymore brother. How can he answer Yami's challenge—and defeat him—in this small mind game of theirs if the King of Games wasn't there?

"What about Yami?"

_Oh, you know my name. Lovely. _

Seto Kaiba wanted to kill the rebellious memory. He looked away, instead; as if Mokuba could actually read minds and know that his older brother was being plagued by his rival's sarcastic replies.

"He isn't coming."

XXX

Dreams were considered unimportant regardless of the significant role they held in one's sanity. Perhaps they seemed worthless, littered with riddles and unanswered questions that never ceased to annoy the dreamer, perhaps they were a reminder of long forgotten promises and innermost desires. But, as Yami sat up, breath quickening as one would when awoken, what does one make of a dark, confusing surreal world? Pitch black meant nothing. Blackness was a color that suggested the lack of anything… it meant nothing, implying a loss of something—of anything. But does it not also serve as an indication that maybe, he who lost so much, needed to re-gain what was missing?

Yami could have ignored it, the want to know. It didn't matter at the moment as the clock ticked, unstopped… unstoppable. Considering how a blank dream was no different from a graphic, vague one that was full of hidden meanings and memories; he could have forced himself back to sleep and forget about everything else. He was exhausted, he needed rest and it was only 5 o'clock. Yami could also easily convince himself that the continual process of waking up, staring at the ceiling, forcing himself to stand up and struggling to think why he wasn't _the least _tormented by nightmares like the other 3 billion people in the world are didn't necessarily mean that the need to gain an identity—not that at present time, he didn't have it because he was Yugi's dark, after all... and the true King of Games—which he could only gain from his memories (or lack thereof) was quite pressing.

Egypt was a continent away. It was a far-away world, now a distant place that he would once again go to. The pictures weren't enough to drive the qualms away, that he needed to know, that is. Yami, who admittedly is feeling the loss of his inability to remember anything from the past (except the ones that he accidentally tap into when he and Seto duel), was going there in a few days. How much have changed? It drove him mad; he wanted to know. Change was an inevitable thing and regardless of him being a pharaoh or not, he could not stop the world from transforming itself in a spiral process, whether upwards or downwards, to so-called progress. Were the statues even there? The temples? The pyramids? Was… anything that held records of his past rescued from destruction?

Oh, he wanted to go. His curiosity was strong enough to send him packing. He could even stay there, according to Ishizu. Yet, as much as he wanted to, he was also aware that there were a lot of things that could happen while he was gone. There was always a probability of something, some _bad _thing happening that would prevent him from either getting to, or leaving from Egypt. Incidents with Dartz, Pegasus and Marik were best forgotten but the pain and the primal fear that came with them can't ever be. It drove Yami to a certain, slight paranoia that made him re-double his efforts to protect his aibou. Not that he couldn't do it; not that he'd even have a problem about it. Yami never had a reason to question his luck, after all; it was part of being the King of Games—dueling skills, luck, heart of cards, etc—but he can't just ignore what's in front of him.

He was going to be away for a few months in an effort to get what he lost in the Ceremonial Battle. Where would that leave Yugi? What if, while he was losing himself in the past, in Ancient Egypt… in his own time, something happens to his hikari? Who would protect Yugi from unwanted events?

"_You are pharaoh but you can't protect everyone, cousin." Seth frowned disapprovingly, wanting to understand the spiky-haired teen before him more than to wipe the sad smile from the other's face. Why they were having _this _conversation, one that was headed for uncharted, dangerous waters, escaped him. What he did know, though, was depression, temporary that it was, could be a fading emotion and all, that he really did not want that feeling to ever grace Atemu's face but the need to comprehend Atemu's every subtle gesture was more important. To understand was better. _

"_That is my duty, Seth. They are my people, every one of them; who am I to decide who deserves to be protected and who does not?" Atemu's reply was exasperated, patient as if explaining something to a confused child, which High Priest Seth wasn't. _

"_You are human, Atemu," Seth answered, instead, aware of the blasphemous remark that he just gave. Blasphemy was uncalled for, and for a priest to even be declaring that their god-ling was no god, after all, would have sent the blue-eyed brunet straight to the pits of unending torture that befits sacrilegious beings. Atemu—dear cousin Atemu—was pharaoh; but he could care less. His cousin may be the most powerful being in the world but he was still human. "You can only do so much." _

"**He**_should not have died for me." _

_Both of them knew who the crimson-eyed king was talking about. It haunted his dreams every night since it happened, since that unwanted incident occurred. And right now, just moments after Seth barged in to demand Atemu's attention, to stop Atemu from destroying himself, to drive the grief away—if his cousin allowed him to, that is— that incident, staining their reputation as powerful, untouchable High Priests of Atemu's court, continued to play with their every move. Seth wondered why instead of being jealous, he could only feel the remorse for not even being there to aid crush him. _

_Atemu looked away. It felt painful: that cold, nagging merciless knowledge that the most trusted companion—the one who took care of him through the years, been his friend all throughout, became his advisor and guardian—he had, died in a most unbefitting, undeserving death. And he, powerful pharaoh that he was, couldn't even prevent that. Oh, how useless he was. The guilt gnawed in Atemu like termites feasting on freshly-cut wood; and what's worse was that it blended so perfectly with his grief, with the loss that crashed upon him. He felt horrible, remembering just how solemn his friend's vow to be there for him on the last night they had seen each other. _

"My soul is your eternal servant, my pharaoh."

_The pharaoh never expected to cry. It was beyond him why the tears were even pooling. It was too late; and no amount of tears could turn back time; to stop the incessant voice in his head that tells him how everything was his fault. Atemu hastily wiped the tears away, embarrassed. _

"_Mahado knew what would happen. It was what he wanted, to defend not only yours but also your father's honor, Atemu." Seth only wanted to comfort his cousin as Atemu stubbornly shook his head. It was the truth behind Mahado's actions, the brunet thought. To be the constant guardian, to be the one to easily throw his life away for anyone else as if his didn't matter at all. Seth used to hate Mahado for that, and right now, as the sobs continued to be stifled, he loathed the other priest even more. Mahado should have known that _this _was going to happen. _

"_**I **__did not tell him to defend me, or anyone else in this matter." _

"_And yet, he did." _

_It was the wrong thing to say as Atemu looked away again, fascinated by the stars in the night sky, glittering, twinkling like the small gems that they were. Seth never liked them. Such false hope they give. They say one could wish anything upon the stars, Seth snorted. Well, if he wished for the grief to be gone, for Mahado to be alive, would the stars grant them? Instinctively, the priest reached for his king and wrapped Atemu in an embrace. They were silent, afterwards. _

"_Mahado did what he could do to not let the tears taint your sweet, smiling face. Would you really let his wish fade just like that?" Seth whispered moments later. _

"_Of course not!" Atemu pulled away and faced his cousin, repulsed by the thought. In the privacy of this chamber, there was no pharaoh and priest. There were no laws, no code to follow; just two cousins formerly entwined in an embrace. In this chamber, they didn't have to pretend that they could handle everything. Their emotions soared as blue met red. Atemu's grief clashed with Seth's want to steal the pain. Perhaps if he had been told about this particular scenario—if the gods hated him that much, they could have Mahado tell him—one year ago, he would have laughed at such preposterous idea. But now, here they were, facing each other. Seth found himself untroubled by what was going on. _

"_Anyone will do it." The brunet found the gardens below, vacated, quiet, basking in the moonlight that they were, entertaining enough to distract him. He felt the weight of Atemu's stare._

"_Seth?"_

"_We'd die rather than witness you in sorrow, Atemu." _

_Because Seth honestly understood. Beneath whatever hatred he bore Mahado, he understood why the priest did it. It was painful enough to watch in the sidelines, to watch as another priest—brunet, blue-eyed, the pharaoh's cousin, himself—be the object of Atemu's affections. Not that Seth felt the pain first-hand. He just _knew_; how he knew didn't matter. Both priests had the desire to protect the pharaoh, to safeguard him from harm. "I'd die and do the same thing had I a chance," Seth whispered. He felt Atemu force their eyes to meet. Atemu's eyes brightened in anger._

"_Don't you dare, Seth! Do you know what that would do to me?" _

_It was the one topic that they avoided to the best of their abilities. And here it was now, out in the open, their vulnerability to be exploited—the pebble that gave way to the destruction of a dam. Seth wondered just how long it would take for either of them, for the both of them to handle everything before they stop abruptly, as if frozen in time, then pretend that days from this particular moment, Atemu didn't have to die…by Seth's hands, no less. Seth felt the familiar twist in his guts as he willed himself to meet the pharaoh's gaze. _

"_Do you know what _**your **_death would do to me, Atemu?" He countered. There was a slightly bigger chance of him walking out, of making another dramatic exit as they were used to… but this time, he wasn't the one who's going to give up. Pharaoh or not, Atemu was his lover and he'd rather be damned than to kill the crimson-eyed teen. "It pains me, the knowledge that I can't save you from such fate." It was hushed, like a secret that that only he could know; something that shouldn't be revealed to anyone. It was as if a window was opened, and instead of entering it, a boulder just destroyed it to create a bigger pathway. _

"_Seth…"_

_A pair of arms snaked around the priest's waist as the shorter teen, a monarch, a king—his lover, his cousin—reached up for a kiss. There should be an argument, longer and more destructive than their usual quarrels; Seth should be convincing Atemu to forget about the ritual and let _him _be the 'sacrifice' instead. But he couldn't, not when he lost himself to the sensations of a kiss that shouldn't even have to feel this _good. _It was heartbreaking, as if the tears they couldn't spill cried through this one kiss. _**But **_Atemu, whose lovely, alive carmine eyes remained close, wanted this tragedy… so much. He found himself unable to resist. Seth wanted to shake away, to pull away and force his pharaoh to change his decision. It was reckless, it was ridiculous, it wasn't befitting! No one deserved such fate—especially not Atemu. What in Ra's name had Seth gotten himself to? _

_Duty was too important; though Seth was aware of how much it will hurt to see Atemu's life fade before his very eyes, to feel the blood pool on the ground, slide through his fingers like water—enough—he couldn't argue. He was powerless, and he hated it. What was the use of the Millennium Rod, of being the High Priest if he couldn't even stop the one he treasures so much from facing such horrid fate? At the end of the day, Seto knew well enough that he'd give in. He loved Atemu enough to let go—or so, Ishizu said. (Damn that woman, who was she to know? Yet he believed her anyway.) _

"_I'll look for you, Atemu. I swear I'll find you—"_

"_Seth, how—"_

"_We'll be together in the next life. I'll make sure of that," and he leaned in for a kiss. Another kiss, more desperate, more frantic, more unwilling to let go; and Seth closed his eyes. At this moment, he didn't care anymore what happens. Should he become pharaoh, should he kill himself, should their ritual work, should the ceremony fail… they had no value. This was the only thing that existed—this, whatever _**this** _is, and Atemu. Desperation was a weakness in battles, but desperation was a pain he was willing to feel. "Atemu…" _

Yami blinked and sighed, pulling himself from the only memory, a fragment that it was, he had. Behind him the door opened to reveal an excited, amethyst-eyed Yugi, his aibou. "Hello, Yugi," was his greeting, calm as usual, as expected. He smiled at his light, aware of the reason behind Yugi's joviality. Apparently, after finishing their project, Yugi and Anzu thought better to go out… _again_. Yami inwardly shook his head. So much for responsibility, aibou. Yugi smiled back and revealed an envelope.

"I have your plane ticket," Yugi cooed in a rather childish, peculiar way, waving the thing in hand as if it was a flag. He was grinning at the King of Games the same way he had grinned before informing that Anzu was officially his girlfriend. Funny, Yami didn't feel elated right now. "Thank you, aibou," he still said, his mind unbothered by just how… strange he sounded. Then again, Yugi didn't notice so it wasn't much of a big deal now, was it? He frowned unconsciously, deciding that this was the right time to wonder about the un-timeliness of that particular flashback.

And Yugi, who may not have initially noticed how preoccupied Yami was, noticed this one, saw the brief pained expression that flickered then evaporated. He sat beside his brooding dark. "Yami?"

"Yes, Yugi?" Yami was smiling now, a pathetic reflection of his normally carefree smiles that Yugi was so accustomed to seeing. This was one of those 'leave-me-alone' smiles that he never succeeded to defeat ever.

Had he sighed, Yami would have known that his problem had become Yugi's, too. But Yugi didn't; instead, he smiled. Yami would have thought that they do nothing else but smile, but that was ridiculous. No one smiles _all _the time except the loony and the mad—and as far as they were concerned, they were neither. "I'm going back to the hospital; are you sure you're not coming, Yami?"

"I'm really tired, aibou. I guess I'll have to pass this time," Yami lied and returned the smile that looked more of a quick twitch of the lips than anything else. The amethyst-eyed teen knew better than to dwell in such negative thoughts about his former other self. "Thanks, anyway… and don't you have a date afterwards, Yugi?" The teen nodded and sighed longingly at the window, as if by some twist of fate the one he was 'longing' for was actually standing there.

"O-okay, Yami. I'll see you later then," Yugi conceded and he was off, headed to Anzu who had now arrived and was waiting just outside the door. Of course, if it hadn't been for the doorbell, the tri-haired teen wouldn't have noticed that his girlfriend was there. Yami shook his head and grinned mischievously, as if he had somehow devised an evil prank upon the poor, unsuspecting folks while he brooded over a certain thing… and someone. The King of Games smiled fondly at the couple, closed the curtains and fell on the bed.

And Yugi's happiness with Anzu only made things worse.

Not that Yami really cared because Yugi was more important, perhaps, than silly, fragmented memories. The past was the past, after all, and he should have known better than to lurk behind. He should have; he didn't have a choice. It was weird, admittedly, to gaze into his rival's fierce, proud blue eyes and remember just how tenderly he was held in Egypt, just how… expressive Seth's face was as they gaze and lost themselves in the depths of each other's eyes. Oh, how romantic. How utterly forgotten—

"Get over it."

It was a pessimistic thought, one made purely out of cynicism. There was an underlying hurt and Yami was quite surprised that he wasn't that melodramatic as to hear himself choke on the words (as if the idea of moving on was too hard to accept). And guess what? Yami Motou, who may not have the ability to choke on his words, to hesitate and deny himself the answer that he knew so well, just couldn't 'move on'. Seth promised that they would be together in whatever way possible; and well… if Seth was here right now, what would he think of his pharaoh who easily lets go?

Yami fell on the bed face-down and hid his head with the pillows, frustrated, vexed, reminiscing… and it was all stubborn Seto Kaiba's fault. He groaned in defeat and his eyes landed on the plane tickets. Realization dawned; he knew what he had to do.

XXX

At 7 o'clock in the morning, when most of the students at the back of the class try their best not to fall asleep at an early hour, as the teacher strut into the classroom with so much excitement he could ever contain while carrying his three thick textbooks, Seto Kaiba frowned and drowned them all with a flood of numbers and computations. Mental computations, that is. For no matter how secondary education may always sound highly important—it **really **is—the blue-eyed brunet who also sits at the back of the class, can never forget that he was the CEO of a company. Besides, if it weren't for the fact that he just _had _to enroll for the sake of KC's publicity (because it would be so arrogant of him to declare himself a genius time and time again without at _least_ mentioning that he still studies... and why waste money on private schooling when he'd just ignore everyone else?); he wouldn't have wasted his time in a madhouse like this.

Mokuba's accident had done its damage: incompetent employees repeating their mistakes, some conniving Directors attempting a 'hostile take-over' as if the previous one wasn't destructive enough and a wave of guilt trip that Seto just can't get over. What a nightmare.

"Hey Yugi!" Jonouchi Katsuya's voice rang in the air, and unfortunately broke through Seto's thinning patience. He glared at the overexcited 'mutt' and watched as the blond hound on Yugi, who merely looked up at his friend and smiled. Again with the smiles. Don't the Motous ever do anything else ASIDE from that? Funny, the mutt didn't even call the other Motou. Seto sneaked a glance, admittedly surprised when there **was** no smirking ex-pharaoh-now King of Games staring back at him. Where was Yami?

"Uhh... where's Yami?" the blonde echoed, not that he even heard Seto's question.

It was baffling, honestly, because as far as the other duelist was concerned, schooldays should never be missed. In fact, if Seto decided to 'dig deeper', he was sure it would definitely antagonize Yami all day to skip classes; which brings him back to his currently unanswered question. Yugi shook his head and sighed, "He wasn't feeling well so he stayed home." The brunet scoffed loud enough to be heard by the amethyst-eyed teenn's idiot friends in the opposite side of the classroom.

"What? You don't believe him, money-bags?" Seto rolled his eyes at the supposed insult. Then again, who was he to blame the mutt? Dogs like him aren't exactly one who had the mental ability to think up of better insults, after all. The CEO stood up and met Jonouchi's glare. "Your 'pharaoh' or whatever he is, is lying. It's embarrassing on your part that you don't even know when your 'friend' is telling you the truth. How pathetic, _mutt_," he answered back and reached for his things—which were all conveniently placed neatly, of course, in his briefcase. Friends. Seto Kaiba wanted to laugh—were this bunch of gaping people what Yami called 'friends'? They didn't even know what was wrong with him.

Last time he checked, Yami was doing perfectly well and was not 'sick' enough to prevent him from driving Seto back to the mansion and getting into a bothersome argument. Was that sick, perhaps, in the Yugi-tachi's vocabulary? He stole a glance at the frowning and obviously concerned Yugi.

Why Seto bothered was something that escaped him. He shouldn't even be leaving the classroom, being yet again the object of three insignificant persons' glares, and making way to his parked car. But he can't deny that hearing Yami lie so blatantly annoyed him. Who was the King of Games kidding? Had he been mooning over his forgotten past, Seto would never forgive him. There were still a few things in the world that confused Seto Kaiba and he was determined to get the answers—but this... this **idiocy**, this desire to know something that happened long ago irked him the most. What would the crimson-eyed teen do once he finds out that his past was not as dandy and beautiful as he thought it to be? It was bad enough that he had to sacrifice himself—and yes, Seto Kaiba was _forced_ to know that after all the harassment Ishizu Ishtar did—but that didn't mean it was the worst thing that happened to Yami, did it?

The Kame Game Shop was still closed when he conveniently parked his Porsche in front of it. Sugoroku Motou greeted him with a nod the moment he opened the door.

"Good morning, Mr. Motou. I'm looking for Yami," Seto said. Straight to the point always, never wasting his breath or his time; the elder looked at him. "Oh, he's in his room, young man."

Quite a time had passed since the BEWD card incident. Time, perhaps, healed the wound he had willingly inflicted on the old man… Seto hated how disgustingly psychotic he looked. Wanting to get everything, anything that he set his eyes on; it was a foolish move and if it weren't for his desire to get all the cards, he wouldn't have to demand one rematch after another with hopes of gaining his title back. Yami was such a smug bastard back then, too; reminding, reprimanding know-it-all that he was, Seto admitted that he hated his rival back then with a passion. And yet, whether he hated the tri-haired duelist _now_ or not didn't matter anymore. It didn't have to, not when Seto Kaiba found himself incredibly annoyed at every wrong move his rival makes. It was, dare he say, as if he actually cared.

Then again, it must have been some sort of way to compensate for all the things Yami did when Mokuba was in the hospital. Seto's thoughts trailed off as he climbed the stairs and opened the door directly in front of it. It could have been Yugi's, or the old man's…

"**Kaiba?" **

Seto frowned, not knowing why he was suddenly peeved at being called through his surname, and glared at Yami, who sat up the moment he opened the door. Crimson eyes widened in surprise and idle confusion. Seto Kaiba found them the loveliest blend of red he had ever seen. Still—

"Yugi says you're sick and I don't believe it."

He heard Yami sigh and look away.

"So you decided to skip class to see for yourself, huh, Kaiba?"

Seto scowled and walked towards his rival, sitting on the bed as if he was a welcomed guest. It wasn't even about 'seeing for himself'; it was about demanding why the King of Games decided on such a foolish choice. Heck, if Seto Kaiba attended classes, what gives Yami the right to miss them? Then again, he would be lying to himself should he tell himself that he wasn't the least interested on the reason for such an obvious lie. He met Yami's gaze.

"No, I want to know why."

Yami raised an eyebrow.

"That's none of your business."

"It **becomes **my business when my partner suddenly decides—and in a whim, may I add— to skip class," Seto countered, knowing he'd be getting the 'Oh, really, Seto Kaiba?' response from the other duelist. Not that he cared. "Did no one tell you? I'm changing partners, Kaiba."

"Really now, Yami?"

"Yes."

"Why don't I believe you?" Because no one would be willing enough to be Seto Kaiba's partner—first and foremost because Seto Kaiba, himself, made it clear that he was not working with anyone else in that matter. Yami didn't need to know that, it was so simple a fact he shouldn't have missed it.

"Believe what you want," Yami answered. "I don't care. I'm not going to work with you anymore."

"Is this about my seemingly inability to thank you?"

"It's more than that. It's you being an insensitive jerk that refuses to let people help him—even when they're trying to a friend!" It irritated Yami: the continuous pursuit of something that didn't seem to matter anymore. It wasn't enough for him to realize the differences between his priest and his present-day rival; so he just had to push and push until Seto Kaiba makes it his goal to push _him _away. It was exhausting task. But Seto would hear nothing of it. With a wave of a hand, dismissing Yami's remark, he forced Yami to meet his gaze. Furious crimson eyes met passive, confident blues.

"I'm not working on the project without you," was Seto's reply.

"**What?" **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I know. The update's delayed by a week and I'm so sorry for that. Gaah. College has begun. Oh noes. :gapes: Which reminds me, I really should write my E101 composition. Been delaying writing it for a number of days now. Ha-ha. Anyway, here's the chapter. I don't have anything else to ramble about. :laughs: **

**Btw, many thanks to Dragon, who checked for typos. Gosh. Never again am I going to type a chapter while I work on my homework. :gawks: I claim responsibility of any mistake that you will find here. There's probably many. Oh well... ****I'm going to follow the schedule now, I swear. Mondays are Update Days for Blood is Red. Btw, do you guys have any suggestions, any particular thing you want to happen in In Explanation? Barrie18, I'm asking you, seriously. Is that okay? **

**Read and review! **

**CHAPTER DEDICATIONS: barrie18, Tragedyluver, dragonlady222, kiki2222, Yami Val and Reblue Eyes (DRAGON!) **

* * *

Chapter 4: Timed Ponderings

There was many a thing to be said about history. Just how valuable it is depends on the person—on a cynic, a believer, an apathetic, just a random bunch of people who are free enough to express their opinions on the significance of the past. For scholars, the only way to create a better future is to study the past and for that, history became a subject that even grade-schoolers learn; businessmen take advantage of this 'desire' to know what happened years, decades, centuries ago to promote their own products (for they _are _entrepreneurs, after all) while most students complain about the seemingly uselessness of such a complicated, memorization-requiring subject.

Seto Kaiba, as he met his rival's challenge with an equal determined gaze, didn't believe in it. It was enough that he had to study every country's history in order to forge better relations with people from different parts of the globe; however, to spend day in and day out wondering about the 'had's and the 'might-have-been's was simply ridiculous. What a waste of time; and yet, here he was bribing the King of Games into joining him for a _history _project. How ironic when said rival, himself, was so determined to 'know the past' and what-not until now; Yami Motou, Seto noticed, merely shook his head out of exasperation and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Should Seto dare think, he would say that they were acting as if they were dueling with the title at stake, as usual. Glares and smirks weren't new in their uncountable duel matches.

"You've resorted to bribing. I must say that I'm surprised by your sudden change of tactics, Kaiba." It was an observation that made the CEO childishly proud of himself, as if his rival _actually _complimented himself—no, as if he _actually _liked the fact that his rival complimented _him_. It even sounded like it was not made out of disdain or sarcasm. Then again, he couldn't blame Yami for saying such things. They were rivals, they do things the straightforward way and well… as far as his crimson-eyed rival was concerned, he never thought of blackmailing the other, either. Seto shrugged and raised an eyebrow at the King of Games. He smirked.

"I prefer the term 'negotiating'. You are smart enough to understand how important the project is for our grades, aren't you" the brunet challenged while the other merely raised an eyebrow back at him. Yami chuckled and decided to stand up. The curtains were pulled to the side moments after that. "I can assure you that I am **smart **enough to understand the significance of the project… the question is, do _you _understand just how much time you've wasted convincing me on a lost cause?"

Very few dare make a comeback to a Kaiba, especially to Seto Kaiba. Unless they didn't fear their job, their reputation or their lives, no one would question his decisions—anyone who needed proof can go to his company and see the many employees strive to gain his approval, or at least a nod. Yami found it pathetic: to be constantly afraid of someone just because he was the boss. But Yami wasn't a fool to think that Seto was not dangerous. Oh no, he knew his rival's abilities and he knew the other well enough to avoid driving the CEO to the edge.

"A 'lost cause'?" Seto questioned and stood up, too. He made his way to the former pharaoh so that their gazes met, their height differences standing out as Yami looked up to challenge him with a narrowed stare.

"I told you I changed partners. Is that too hard for you to understand, Kaiba?" Yami answered patiently—confidently—that it annoyed Seto inwardly. It was as if during a duel, Yami had drawn a trump card and he was smugly announcing Seto Kaiba's oncoming, inevitable defeat. Oh, how lovely. Seto glared at his rival and smirked, instead: "And I'm telling you that it just isn't possible—you changing partners, I mean. I believe I made it clear that **you **will be my partner," he replied, "If I have to threaten sensei with his job to have you as my partner, then believe me, I will." Why he insisted on having this crimson-eyed duelist to work with him escaped him. The image of that Katsuya working—and ridiculing himself even more (as expected from a pea-brained teenager) with the ex-pharaoh before him flashed in his mind. Seto shook his head. If there was a person in the world who can waste—and who had the right to do so—Yami Motou's time, it was his only rival.

Yami's eyes landed on the blue-eyed executive before him; he grimaced.

"_We'll be together in the next life. I'll make sure of that" _

Funny, Seto Kaiba sounded like his priest. They weren't making the same declarations, defying fate and all, but they sounded the same as if they were twins or better yet, two pieces of a soul. Frankly, it amazed and at the same time disturbed Yami. Comparing his azure-eyed, sympathetic cousin of a priest with his rival? Seriously, what was wrong with that picture? Perhaps Yami needed to sleep it off. "You will do no such thing. Don't you get tired of all the threats you constantly make?" Surely threatening people with their jobs is not that easy as the CEO made it appear.

"Don't _you _get tired of offering a hand when I don't obviously need it?"

It was a question that both of them knew Yami wouldn't answer. It was simply ridiculous to rebut after that. And Seto knew ho important it was to Yami. It made him feel like he had a purpose. Everyone needed to have one, or so a Catholic priest once told him; as if he didn't have to be Yugi Motou's shadow all the time. The King of Games used to be Yugi, sweet amethyst-eyed teen that he was, until Yami gained a body for his own and took what was rightfully his. But beyond that, what was he except a past-less Yugi-look alike? Perhaps it was Yami's desire to create an identity that separates himself from his 'hikari' that made him help others so much… and if he doesn't learn when to stop, it might just be his downfall.

Seto felt Yami's gaze fall on him and wondered where his analysis of the crimson-eyed teen came from. Where the hell are his thoughts leading him to nowadays, in the first place?

"When do you plan to work on the project?" Yami conceded with a sigh, unaware of the line of thought the billionaire was cursing at that moment. He expected the other to grace him with yet another smug 'I-get-what-I-want' look; and apparently, he was mistaken. What met him was an admittedly accomplished (but grateful?) stare from the brunet.

The CEO raised his wristwatch to check the time, that perpetual frown plastered yet again on his face. "Now," he replied. It was too late to go back to class, even more to convince both he and his rival to at least catch up during lunch break. What was the purpose of such decision when he was just going to read another book during classes? Why waste the entire day on stuff that both of them already knew when they could finish the project ahead of everyone else and bid each other goodbye until their next rematch? He watched Yami get his jacket and schoolbag.

On the way to the mansion, while the spiky-haired duelist got a sense of déjà vu at what was happening between the both of them, Seto Kaiba's thoughts grazed memory lane—a seemingly forgotten road, treaded upon back then, neglected, one's ancient history that he purposely never bothered to uncover. His attention fell on two small kids by the street, waiting for the stop light to turn red so they can cross, the taller kid holding the shorter one's hand. They looked like they were brothers; and whether he wanted to or not, Seto started thinking about the possibilities of him and Mokuba looking like _that _when they were young… and orphaned.

Were their eyes full of hope, full of a want to be nurtured and cared by loving parents? They were so foolish to think that beyond the gates of the orphanage was a couple who was willing to take care of the both of them—as kids who have individual potentials and not because Seto, who was once the 'chess wizard with no surname' was a genius who every parent is dying to have. It annoyed him whenever he thought about it: seeing one couple after another frown and shake their heads as if the mere sight of gray-eyed Mokuba staring up at them painted **such **a pitiful picture. Well, Seto and Mokuba never really needed them, did they? God, remembering _**those **_things infuriated him. "Kaiba?" Yami had looked at him with a serious yet utterly confused gaze, and Seto shut him up with a glare. Apparently, it wasn't enough because the King of Games persisted even more, "Your mansion? It's _that _way, remember?"

Had his intentions been away from actually buying the supplies that they needed for the project, Seto Kaiba would have looked not only like a smug idiot but a foolish one, and in front of his rival, nevertheless. It would be humiliating, should that happen; and obviously, it didn't because the CEO had everything planed. They were, as the Porsche sped away, farther and farther from the Kaiba mansion, headed to another city where the supposed supplies can be purchased. He raised an eyebrow at the glaring crimson-eyed duelist. "If you actually think that I don't know the way to my own mansion, then you're more of an idiot than I now see you as. Do you really think that I'd forget something as simple as that, Yami?" He questioned. An insult had never been a new thing in his life, especially when it was simpler to hurt other people than to feel it.

Yami nonchalantly shrugged. "Can you blame me for thinking about it? After all the speeches you made about the insignificance of the past and forgetting what were unimportant in your life?" Yami answered back before leaning suggestively on the CEO's shoulder, and whispered, "Believe me, if I were an idiot, I would have thought that you were one, too."

Seto rolled his eyes at the comeback and pushed his rival away. What was it with Yami and invading **his **personal space anyway? "We're going to get our supplies. This is the least you can do for wasting my time," he told the other. He heard Yami chuckle and he stole a glance; was it something he said?

"Wasting _your _time, Kaiba?" Had you been reasonable enough as anyone would—but quite frankly, you aren't—you would have left me alone when I demanded my own space. Obviously, you think it's better to just waltz into my room unannounced and force me into doing this project when I already have a partner of my own," Yami smartly replied with a satisfied smirk. "Besides, why should we have to get them from another city when you, being the 'great Seto Kaiba' and all can easily have them delivered?"

"If you haven't noticed, we're running out of time. **I **do not have time for your silly word games," the CEO wisely answered. This round belonged to Yami, he admitted to himself; and one look at Yami told him that the other knew that. "If you don't want to work on the project, then just say so. I don't need you anyway."

Now, now, Seto Kaiba, where did all the 'I'm not working on the project without you' crap go? Shut up.

There must have been something Seto Kaiba said that sounded wrong because right after his rather callous statement, the silence once again reign in the air. Yami shook his head, gave a huff of air then turned to look outside the window as if there was something interesting outside. Well, the CEO didn't find anything interesting about anything outside the car at all, so what could have caught the ex-monarch's interest? Not that he cared; oh no, not at all. "Fine, give me my part of the project and drop me off somewhere," Yami's meek answer cut through the permeating tension. It was as if a knife had just been plunged into the chest wall, grasping and attempting to stab the heart. Or, it must have been the gravity of the duelist's words that was making the brunet feel this way. How peculiar.

"'Drop off somewhere'? I have no intention of doing so."

"Well then… there's a bus stop there. I'm sure sensei will understand when I pass my project beyond the deadline."

"You will do no such thing."

"And why shouldn't I?"

"Why _should _you?"

Yami shook his head and sent his rival a withering glare. It was probably made out of exasperation, or plain annoyance; but he really didn't care anymore. Somehow, though he was confident that he had heard just about every insult Seto Kaiba was capable of throwing at him, this one was new… and off. It was out of conviction: the declaration that he needed no one else. It must have hit a nerve, or whatever the idiom was, and it must have meant something to him because he stopped responding, right? But as he looked at the azure-eyed, overbearing duelist, he realized that it wasn't even about him being Seto Kaiba's rival. It was because no matter what he did, the CEO will flatly refuse his help. It was a matter of pride between them—as if everything was still a game, as if this was still a duel that the brunet oh-so-badly wanted to win at.

"Because you don't need my help," the King of Games challenged.

"Of course I do." And there it was, the trap that Seto got himself in. His eyes widened a bit before narrowing in its usual appearance. He glowered. Being bated was something he didn't appreciate. A trap meant losing: to bigger, bulkier boys in the orphanage, to Gozaburo's endless seemingly unanswerable riddles, to his father's challenge that he unwillingly inherited because of a death—losing to everything that would and should matter to him as Seto Kaiba. It was a metal cage that would prohibit him from gaining what he wanted and from maintaining what he had achieved. So, frankly, it wasn't new that he never did learn to appreciate admitting that he caught himself in his own spun web. If there was anyone in the world who had the right to bait him—not that such person **ever **existed—it would have been someone who mattered to him more than Mokuba and his company. What were the chances of said person existing? None.

Seto felt familiar carmine eyes land on him for the umpteenth time; and wondered what the stare this time meant.

XXX

The distinct sound of a door slamming close broke through Seto Kaiba's dazed, seemingly preoccupation. His fingers paused midway form typing another code for a program as his eyes landed on the digital clock beside the computer. It was 7:48 P.M.; and it was late enough to tell him that the program he was supposed to finish had been the subject—the only one—of his thoughts for three hours (and counting…). The history project lay conspicuously beside the computer as if, when he accidentally glanced at it, reminding him that he had a partner on that assigned task. He turned around, found an unoccupied sofa and Seto realized that his crimson-eyed rival of a partner was nowhere to be seen.

"Damn it, Yami," Seto growled in frustration as he automatically promised to give Motou 'a piece of his mind'. He immediately saved the progress he had with the debugging program then left. Where he was going, in a vast place such as his mansion, he didn't actually know.

Hallways in the Kaiba mansion were and had always been dimly-lit, ever since he could remember. They were like tortuous pathways in a labyrinth, like serpentine roads that lead a traveler to dead ends. Gothic architecture had been a thing of the past, or so Seto learned during on of his forced history lessons; and yet, one look at his hallways would contradict that statement. Then again, these—from ancient to porcelain vases, lush red carpets and mahogany foundations for the ceiling, golden chandeliers—weren't his at first, were they? Gozaburo Kaiba, as much of a bastard he was, still knew his art…and apparently, he liked the eerie feeling that went with this kind of architecture. Seto grimaced and remembered upon seeing the bloodless post now how hard the impact was as his head collided with to that very same seemingly obelisk. Black and red blended well.

"_I won't do it again, I won't—"_

"_You are being punished. Take this as a man, you pathetic little boy!" Then there was the wall again. Was it really a wall? Through the dripping blood, Seto couldn't see anymore. His tears fell even when he wasn't supposed to let them fall; and he knew what to expect for disobeying such 'simple' rule. It was a good thing that only he and his stepfather was there. Good thing Mokuba was still in school._

"_When I say you're not allowed in that brat's room, you do not __**ENTER**__!" _

_Nine-year old Seto's vision was swimming as he hit the table. The vase had rolled over the furniture into the floor and broke. What was the feeling of desperation? Of wanting things to simply end? To not care about anything else but the suddenly inviting presence that is death? The young boy closed his eyes in pain. _

"_Pathetic little boy!" _

Whether Yami Motou lived in darkness or not for millennia, Seto could care less. As memories of a haunted childhood plagued the CEO, he realized that three millennia could have been torture for a sane, breathing being; however, if it provided a sanctuary from the pain he chose to experience—because he can't blame others for what happened to him; it was his choice, his decision to be hurt like that—Seto probably would have taken it.

"Nii-sama? It's Mokuba." A phone call.

Then again, was a sanctuary really a welcome idea?

Darkness was stifling. It held no meaning; a void that anyone could have easily filled up but instead, forgotten. The feeling of nothingness, of that nagging feeling that wherever one looks—whether from the east to the west, or from the north to the south, from one direction to another—the only thing that would greet him was the cold, crashing feeling of blackness. Black was a color, a neutral one, yet it always looked heavier. It was as if its blackness symbolized darkness and how it crashes on someone like a tidal wave that was meant to destroy everything on its path. Imagine suffocating on that same 'wave', on the same flood day in and day out, one month after another, countless passing years that time seemed to not exist anymore. Imagine _that _feeling fall on your shoulders and be forced to carry a burden like Atlas does with the earth.

Yami hated the darkness despite having been named after it. Three thousand years were long enough for him to lose his sanity; no one can survive millennia in a world devoid of anything. And on that particular moment when time began to interweave with forgetting, when that same entity—that one thing that was more important than all the riches in the world, or so people said—didn't seem to matter anymore and one stops counting how many minutes, hours, days, months and years have passed, one realizes that he slowly loses his memories and humanity as well. Such a dark, morbid truth; a pessimist's happiness (oxymoronic, true, but it didn't matter—not to Yami) but it was the piece of fact that he had come to terms with in the thirty-minute break he allotted himself.

Before him was a thick, hardbound history book, one that was supposed to hold an overview of all the past's records. It was _supposed _to help him remember and provide the information that he needed for his project; however, a glance told him all he knew. After a chapter, after a block of words that held no particular importance to him, Yami Motou finally accepted that his mind was as pitch black as the Shadow Realm. He shut the book and sighed. It was probably time to go back to the other study room, as Seto described it before.

The ex-monarch headed to the door and was about to open it when the door opened, revealing an irritated CEO.

"Next time you leave, be courteous enough to tell me, will you?" It was bad enough that Seto had to go through so many unwanted memories while looking for the former pharaoh, but to go through quite a number of rooms and face the fact that he had yet to find the duelist was beyond time-wasting. It was downright infuriating. He met Yami's gaze and was admittedly surprised at the neutrality in the usually lively crimson-red eyes. What was wrong with Yami?

Yami shook his head. "Do you even have plans to finish our project, Kaiba?" He waited by the door, waited for the CEO to realize that he was not in the mood to play Seto's game, whatever it was, and as the brunet stared at him, the former pharaoh merely sighed in response. Surely Seto knew just how ridiculous what they're doing right now is? Yami had tried calling Yugi at home; with Grandpa staying with a friend for a week, they were basically on their own. It would be pretty irresponsible of him to just focus on his project and ignore Yugi altogether, wouldn't it?

"Did you call Yugi?"

It was exactly what he was thinking about. Had Yami been paying extra attention, he would have noticed that the CEO no longer stared at him as if he was the bane of the other's existence. Instead, he would have found out that the anger had dissipated into an overwhelming desire to know just about everything about _him_. But no, Yami was too distracted to 'pay extra attention'. The duelist reached for the doorknob and gestured for his blue-eyed partner to lead the way to wherever they were going. He figured that he might as well finish the project to spare more time for petty attempts in recovering his memories.

"What's it to you, Kaiba?"

Seto shrugged. "If you don't want to, then don't. I don't really give a damn. Come along," he answered and headed back to where his laptop and other things were. He could feel every falter and hesitation in Yami's steps, as if what he had just said actually made sense for the crimson-eyed teen. The doorbell snapped him from his brief musings; behind him, Yami's eyes widened before catching up with the hurried executive. Seto opened the door only to meet Yugi's sheepish grin and Anzu's perplexed expression. Why the girl was perplexed was something Seto Kaiba refused to bother about—now, the question is, why was Yugi here? He turned around and met Yami's gaze. "Yami?" He asked, knowing the King of Games had an idea about his aibou's uninvited presence in the mansion. "Yugi, what are you doing here?" the spiky-haired teen asked of his light.

Yugi sighed, "I'm going to spend the night at Jou's. Will that be okay, Yami?" he asked, unaware of the scrutiny he was placed into. Seto Kaiba frowned. "Of course, aibou. I forgot to bring my keys, though; can you lend me yours?" Yami replied.

The amethyst-eyed Motou nodded and handed him the keys before soon, saying goodbye. Seto heard his rival sigh before facing him. "I'll see you tomorrow, then, Kaiba," Yami told him. He walked past the CEO and reached for his schoolbag when he was pulled back. Seto's hand latched on his wrist, gripping it and pulled it near to his chest. "Didn't you hear what your aibou just said?" Seto asked the former pharaoh, who merely glared at him and tugged at the captive hand.

"What can you possibly demand of me now, Kaiba? I need to go home!" Yami pulled his hand away and met the brunet's stare. The King of Games was already making his way to the door when he heard a quiet whisper of his name break through the stillness of the room.

"Yami."

The duelist stopped and met Seto's gaze, aware of the reluctance and other warring emotions that were reflected on those bright, azure eyes. Yami couldn't help but see Seth in Seto Kaiba's eyes, and he shook his head to clear his mind of such thoughts. Finally, as their eyes met, red clashing with blue as if to symbolize how two different personalities wove themselves into one singly thread, their gazes narrowed at each other, Seto's lips thinned into a grim line.

"Have dinner with me." Seto's voice was clipped, but Yami didn't bother to notice that. All that mattered was the subtle order… and the fact that he should know better what the answer to such 'question' is. Their faces weren't that far from each other now, their breaths ghosting each other's lips. When had they gotten so close? The former pharaoh's brows furrowed in confusion before shaking his head; this was ridiculous. He was not even aware of the same puzzlement that was plaguing the CEO—not that he had the time to ponder about that. "Yami?"

XXX

**A/N: One final note, the angst starts next chapter. :grins: Don't forget to drop a word! **

Preview:

"_What use is the past when you don't live for the future?" _

_"You don't understand." _

_"Trust me, **Yami**, I will." _


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Oh my god. So sorry for the delay, everyone (if there **_**is **_**someone who's still reading this, that is). I know, I promised an update every Monday, right? I guess I assumed too much. I thought I could do it, you know. But to be honest, I can't, anymore. Even with the breaks and the free days (just Mondays), I still couldn't write enough to complete a chapter. You guys have no idea about the number of times I have to re-write this chapter before posting. I have also been banned from the computer. Apparently, dad thinks it's wise to cut down my Internet use to two hours. Imagine, TWO hours?! I'm going to die. :gapes: **

**Updates will no longer come out weekly. I found out that it takes me two weeks to finish a chapter, so I will post my chapter every other Monday, okay? The same condition goes with In Explanation. **

**So, to those who waited, please forgive me. I swear I'll find a way to make it up to you. Any mistakes you see here are the results of a sleep-deprived mind. Please feel free to point out my incompetence and crappiness. I know I suck. **

**Also, can anyone please recommend the best cure to writer's block? I'm seriously lacking inspiration right now. Help! **

**Rating for this chapter is higher than the others. Implication of rape. Be warned! **

**CHAPTER DEDICATIONS: barrie18, Reblue Eyes, Yami Val, dragonlady222, kiki2222**

* * *

Chapter 5: Likely Surreal

It was a different world; a dimension that lacked the natural chaos with its pretentious displays of wealth and privileges. The restaurant was painted gold. A mural of the Renaissance era decorated the many walls of the seemingly roofed courtyard. It was vast: the fancy restaurant in the corner of Saint Street and Domino Avenue; and were it not for the obelisk-like columns outside and the chandeliers that could easily be seen from the sidewalks, it would have passed as a plain, rundown establishment. The angels painted on the ceiling with their golden harps and serene faces looked down on the over-dressed customers. Below them men proudly showcased how much of a folly they are. Their money and power separated them from the 'common people', who had to work hard for eight hours (or more…) for people like them, and face the harsh realities of life. And while pair by pair, they were catered to their own reserved tables, the waiters would quench down the thought of seeing the world on top of the "food chain".

Routine did this to them; but they weren't complaining. It was a disheartening and equally inspiring thought, to be reminded that no amount of their hard work can actually give them the wealth the people they serve have the luck to have; but what **was **luxury? It was the expensive cars that were parked in the rooftop parking area; the Armani's and the Dior's; the wallets that held more than enough credit cards and wad of cash. It was the power to remove a poor, unsuspecting waiter who had spilled, albeit accidentally, the tea on a woman's gown; the ability to play with the lives of other people; to play God and control the country's economy. Those over-dressed people, who merely nodded to a skilled pianist's expert imitation of Beethoven's many serenades and chattered like buzzing bees while waiting for their food, **are **luxurious. They were the elite.

And one spectator, whose rags were enough to catch the attention of the guards standing outside the varnished oak doors of the restaurant, looked into the glass window. What he found was a life, as a man secretly search his pockets for extra change—and if he was lucky, some paper bills—and smiling at his wife-to-be, as a young businessman hung his head in defeat and his lady—standing up, shaking her head, her tears like pearls rolling from her eyes—running away. What a dramatic sight, the man thought to himself as he dug his hands into his pockets. People were naturally liars; they had always been so willing to pretend, to hide the truth behind their Porsches and Ferraris, and their overwhelming display of rubies and emeralds that they really did not own. How they could keep up with their pretenses confused him as he was sent away with a callous "Scram!" like a pest. Rich people were snobby bastards, he concluded as he turned his back and walked away. Another black Porsche swerved just in front of the entrance.

The windows were tinted, protecting the identities of the ones inside. Seto Kaiba liked it that way. Privacy placed as much importance as his unending 'mind battles' with incompetent employees and stupid Board of Directors. Why he bothered to interact with them in the first place escaped him. Beside him, Yami released a huff of air and wrapped his arms around himself. It was getting so chilly inside the car; the cold like icy, phantom touches on his skin, piercing and caressing, hurting and comforting him at the same time. He stole a glance at the distracted brunet and felt the spot in his arm that Seto grasped earlier start to bruise. The King of Games frowned and placed his hand on top of the bruise, wincing when it stung. It caught the CEO's attention as he stared, too, at the black and blue stain on Yami's skin. "I called you, you were still leaving," Seto said as an apology. It had, after all, always been easier to give excuses, to believe that _he _merely reacted to what happened.

"It doesn't matter," Yami replied and brought down the sleeve of his sweater on the bruised spot.

The tri-haired duelist expected the entire trip to the restaurant to be quiet, lifeless and tense, even. It was partly true, what with his blue-eyed rival losing himself to his thoughts. Yami had not the slightest idea about Seto's preoccupation but the other's constant frowning and narrowed gazes, as he maneuvered the Porsche into the many 'shortcuts' to avoid traffic, Yami was sure enough that the CEO was remembering something very—a honk from a disgruntled driver behind them—unpleasant. The former pharaoh let his eyes land on the hidden bruise—he was sure the imprint of Seto's fingers were still there—and remembered the whisper-like invitation to 'have dinner' with his rival. Yami should be heading home now, opening the door to greet the darkness of the Kame Game Shop; but instead, he was about to dine with someone whose only interest in him was to win back a title. Funny, the King of Games wasn't the least intimidated by that thought.

How does one feel when his memories plague him? Seto's face was neither ashen nor pale but the nightmares were evident enough in his eyes, as if glaring at something would drive them away. Does he remember the days, the years of hopelessness and resentment he suffered in the orphanage? Maybe, as he snuck food into their room so Mokuba could eat; maybe not, as he met Gozaburo's challenging stare. Seto Kaiba may have been a nameless kid back then but he was not one to back down, what more now that he has all the power and the money he could ever need? He had always been the aloof, successful businessman in the eyes of the people; however, that does not guarantee them the assurance that they already know his past. Even though he could be one of the coldest, most influential people in the country, even though all eyes are usually on him, that does not grant anyone else the access to what he had to go through to get to where he is right now. And well, it didn't have to be so important.

Yami grimaced. Seto had always tried to destroy every possible path towards the one thing he avoided. And they may be fighting for the title, but it was no news that they were also fighting for whose ideology, whose line of thinking was more acceptable. Both opinions had flaws; however, one made more sense than the other and neither of them wanted to believe the other was better than them. It was a rivalry that many assumed to be loosely based on card games. He shook his head; he could have lost had he wanted to. Had he wanted to give Kaiba what the brunet desperately tried to grasp, Yami could have let go for the sake of his aibou's sanity (surely Kaiba hounding dear Yugi all the time is stressful enough…). That wasn't the case. This was their world—their opinions always opposed each other. It was just as ironic that what he lacked, his rival had; and what he had, his rival seemed to want. What was so wonderful about an **empty **past? Horrible his past may be, Kaiba _can't _want to easily forget it…

… right?

"I will have to go home early today, Kaiba." It had always been easier to distract one's self by breaking the so-called 'ice' between two persons. Yami found himself staring at Seto.

"I _know_," was the harsh reply. Of course he knew. He _had _to know; it was one thing he can never get over of—the seemingly desire to know everything. Seto is a genius, but he wanted to know more things. He wanted to know the real reason behind his rival's passion for the past. It was the past, for crying out loud; why would one be so attached to it? Not having the answer meant disasters. Ignorance could lead to so many possibilities of his downfall, or so Gozaburo said. And Gozaburo Kaiba, tyrannical and abusive he may be, was still a successful businessman. It had always been Seto's way to learn from the best and defeat them in the future. It really was not a surprise that such line of thought had become a philosophy—which brings him back to his current question. Inside the recesses of his mind, Seto, admittedly, wondered why Yami kept insisting to go back to a place where he would be alone. At least he knew that Yugi was not in the house and neither was the old man, who was staying at a friend's house. So, why the hurry? Not that the CEO cared; not at all.

They were supposed to finish their project, which was due two days from now. And he was definitely not planning to work on a supposedly 'pair' project alone. Seto had a company to run; why waste the few minutes he could spare on some petty grade requirement if he had a partner to help him in the first place?

"The deadline's two days from now," _so don't go home_. But the CEO didn't say the last part out loud. Why he thought of such a… scandalous thought confused him. It wasn't that he couldn't do the project on his own—why was he even thinking about their project, in the first place?—and it was surely not because he was dependent on another individual for his grade. He could do just fine, thank you very much. Yami Motou, however, was his partner and if Yami wanted the grade, he had to earn it. Yami's eyebrow quirked at his statement, Seto unwittingly avoided the gaze and focused on the road. He need not point out that had Yami been observant enough, he would have realized the faint red on the CEO's cheeks. Seto's eyes narrowed at the thought, shaking his head in disgust. He does **not** blush! And so what if he was inwardly demanding the former pharaoh to finish the project with him? It was ridiculous: just how far one would go to put hidden meanings on usually the simplest and meaningless of things.

"I _know_, Kaiba."

The brunet breathed a quick sigh. Wasn't it amusing to see how deadlines make a huge difference between complacence and excellence? Deadlines were his life, sort of—it was the nightly 'study' sessions as he off-handedly notice the stain of the ink on his hands and the broken lead for his mechanical pencil on his lap and arms; it was the daily 'lectures' he received from Gozaburo, who had him close his eyes and bend over the couch, as he pretended that everything was alright. The pain was not new. The abuse was not alien to his body anymore… but it was worth it. One look at his smiling raven-haired brother was enough to tell him that all the sacrifices were needed.

"Kaiba, are you okay?" The question had brought him back to his senses, feeling the gaze fall on him. It was a weird feeling: to be constantly stared at by someone whose attention he didn't want to gain. So what if he had to go through a lot of things in the past? It was _the past_, it held no importance in his life—none, nada, nothing—and he was not bound to some unseen entity that he would repeat the stupidities of the young kid he was back then. God, this was frustrating. Seto glanced at the King of Games, noticed the same confusion that honestly mesmerized him for a few minutes but this time, it was no longer adorable. It was annoying. Seto Kaiba did not need his rival's sympathy.

"I'm fine."

Silence.

"**Okay." **

Seto didn't know what was wrong with Yami's response. It was the answer he was waiting for, wasn't it? He wanted to be left alone, but it surely did not sound like the former pharaoh was agreeing wholeheartedly. He met Yami's gaze, met an intense, scrutinizing stare with one of his own until it was Yami who looked away, sighing to himself. Why? The CEO didn't know, not that he had the time to even think about it in the first place: the restaurant was just in front of them by then.

XXX

There were kisses and then there were lies. Promises were always broken and vows created. It was the natural paradoxes of the world: to break and create, to neglect and nurture, to separate and miss, to support and to ignore; to hate and to love. Hate and love were such intense emotions that it was so difficult to point where one ended and the other began. Yami met Seto's gaze, aware of the anger behind those icy blues that he had become so used to seeing. Coldness had always been associated to his rival, and he couldn't blame the people for seeing Seto that way. It had always been easier to push everyone away than to attract them, always easier to trap them and hurt them than to be considered a prey, himself. It was the CEO's way of life, and it was, Yami guessed, how the other duelist was brought up—and probably right now, as Seto tapped his fingers on the table and waited for the food to be served, he was trying _yet again _to send another memory into the deeper recesses of his mind.

"I can work on my part of the project at home so I don't think it's necessary that I stay over tomorrow," Yami said, breaking the silence between them.

"No," was the curt answer. "This is a paired project. If we're going to report this to the full detail, we have to know everything and anything about this. I refuse to receive a low grade." _And it's not enough that you're moaning about the lost past alone in your house when you could do far more productive and important things. _

"I can—"

"It's not about whether you can or you can't. It's about perfecting the project, so get over it. This project will be finished in my mansion by tomorrow evening."

"Who are you? My master?"

"Oh, _please_. Stop with the lame comebacks, Yami. If perfection is not something you can at least dream of attaining, just admit it. At least I would know."

"You're such an arrogant bastard, Kaiba."

"The pot calling the kettle back, Yami?"

Yami pursed his lips and turned away, his anger drowning the concern he held for his 'partner', who smirked rather smugly at him from his side of the table. The former pharaoh reached for the glass of water and took a sip, as if the mere act of sipping would make him forget his on-and-off resentment for Seto. The smug look on the CEO's face tempted him to punch the other; seriously, if it wasn't for the fact that they were in a restaurant and that he did not have the will to fight some more, he would have. The silence hung in the air after that; and it wasn't broken until many minutes later, while Seto and Yami were half done with their food.

The silence had been stifling, but it was something both of them had been accustomed to already. It was probably as expected as their almost-daily rematches except for the suspiciously missing glares they sent each other. Seto Kaiba had looked away from him, focused more on the glass of wine in front of him, his usual frigid stares avoiding Yami's. It wasn't what troubled Yami, however; oh no, indeed. It was the lack of impatience that made Seto Kaiba such a trademark 'terror' patron in the eyes of some restaurant mangers and waiters; and what's funny is that the CEO wasn't even the least peeved by the smallest of things—particularly, when the waiter accidentally gave him the wrong drink. It was a good thing for Kaiba, _sure_ but Yami was convinced that his rival was dealing with some things that rendered him preoccupied. By the looks of it, and by the way Seto had frowned, Seto was thinking about some horrible memories again.

Yami had promised to help Mokuba. Mokuba was concerned about his brother's health (and sanity, it seems, too) and Yami would be a liar should he say that he wasn't even the bit curious about the other duelist. But he couldn't help a person who refuses to be helped. It's that simple. It confused the King of Games that though he knew the CEO didn't want his aid, Yami kept insisting.

"I don't understand—"

"I don't understand it, either." Yami looked up, feeling the other's gaze fall on him. Seto quirked an eyebrow at his unasked question before frowning. If there was a person who needed to be helped, it was Yami and not him. _He _survived all those years on his own, protecting Mokuba to the best of his abilities and giving his little brother the best he could offer. His rival, on the other hand, kept looking for something that was probably gone now. So really, who needed whose help more? "Stop over-analyzing, Yami. I don't and I won't ever need anything from you."

"Whatever, Kaiba." Seto's remark had come out as an insult, and it infuriated the former pharaoh.

Yami knew about Gozaburo, saw how his rival became a substitute for a child who has long been dead, and even met the same child Seto substituted for. Yami would be lying if he says that he wasn't the least surprised upon seeing Noah Kaiba. Seto never lost to anyone except _him, _which oddly made the former pharaoh's chest flutter in odd, childish glee, but to see the normally proud brunet be turned to stone, his life points a few hundreds away from defeat… Yami didn't have to wonder why the sight broke some semblance of control within him.

The CEO was his to defeat. It was an arrogant thought, and it sounded more of an immature promise but it was nonetheless true. Yami may not have the priest who defiantly declared war with fate just to be reunited with his pharaoh, or the lover whose warm, bright azure eyes drowned his own stares as he lose himself to the sensations of the other's kisses; but this was what Yami had. No longer does the past exist—he can hardly remember any of it in the first place—so why shouldn't he live with what he had? Seto Kaiba is his rival and nothing more; and after the project is done, Yami will not see the other duelist anymore.

"What part have you finished?"

Yami looked up, surprised to realize whatever tension clouded them before was slowly being destroyed. It was unlikely of Seto to strike a conversation first, and obviously the CEO was trying something new; however, it only confused Yami more. "I'm halfway done if that's what you're asking. I just need to encode the notes I made into the computer. I'll send the presentation to you when I get home later," he answered anyway.

"Why don't you just stay in the mansion tonight?"

"What?"

There was way Seto Kaiba asked him _that_. Then again, it somehow made sense because had Yami been 'overanalyzing' things again, he would never forgive himself. For all he knew, the CEO was only planning to ask for another rematch, and that wasn't such a big deal for the King of Games. Only, Yami didn't bring his deck—because they were supposed to work on their project—and he had to pack his clothes for the trip to Egypt. The former pharaoh slightly shook his head, enough to tell the other duelist that he was refusing the offer. "I can't, Kaiba." Sure, he understood why the other wanted a rematch. Seto valued his pride, and Yami values his as well. Losing to someone who was probably as proud as he was, left a blow big enough that Seto wanted to reclaim what he had lost—and it no longer was the title. Yami knew that. It wasn't about the title anymore.

It was about so many things, but most importantly, it was Seto trying to redeem himself. Gozaburo had jumped over a building when he lost to his adoptive son. The brunet shouldn't even be feeling the 'aftershocks' of the things he had to go through when the abusive pseudo-father was still alive; unfortunately, that wasn't the case. In every duel, Yami saw Seto, the little child who wanted only the best for his brother. It was that little child who was trying to get something right now… but Yami couldn't help him. Not right now. He wanted to help—he promised Mokuba and inwardly, Seto—but he needed to leave first. Yami couldn't live as Yugi's shadow forever. The former pharaoh may be the King of Games but until when? Until he died? That was ridiculous. He needed an identity above everything else.

He never expected an answer, not when he made sure to cut the conversation short—to prevent the other from formulating a rebut. When Seto replied with a callous "I'm not going to stand here and watch you pine disgustingly after what you can't have. The past is gone!" however made Yami stare at the brunet before sighing in exasperation. That was an easy thing to say. Seto had a past, no matter how everything seemed like a nightmare; Yami, on the other hand, didn't. Was it not only appropriate that he look for it? And 'pining'? The peeved former pharaoh decided it was better to ignore the CEO. Besides, why does Seto care about what _he _does with his time in the first place?

"What does it matter to you?" was Yami's reply, which only came out as a harsh, defensive comeback.

"You don't get it, do you?"

"Oh, _please_, Kaiba. I don't have to listen to this." Yami excused himself and walked out. Had he given himself some time to sneak a look at the executive he left at their table, he would have realized that Seto had already paid up and was already following him. The duelist could also have noticed that apart from the mild annoyance that was very, very apparent in the CEO's body language, only a triumphant, smug expression graced Seto's face. It was only until a hand grabbed Yami's arm and turned him around that he noticed the other's presence. Yami couldn't figure out whether he was more irritated or angry about it. "Don't you ever give up, Kaiba?" It was a rhetorical question, and Yami obviously didn't have to wait for an answer. "I'm so tired of all your cynicism. Well, guess what? I don't care. You can laugh at what I want for _myself _all you want because I am definitely not up to convincing you to think otherwise. I will only be wasting my time," the former pharaoh lashed out.

The King of Games was normally a patient person. Yami had been famous for it especially in his circle of friends—having a friend like Jonouchi may have its perks but it was more of who can handle the blonde the most—but at this moment, he was not in the mood to have verbal spars with someone who—

"_You die tomorrow." _

_Atemu looked up, pausing from caressing the priest's face. Seth was no longer half-sitting, half-lying on the bed but directly on top of the pharaoh now. "I know, Seth…" was the monarch's whisper as the other's breath ghosted his skin. He could pull his cousin down should he want to but Seth had other plans, it seems. Atemu felt the tingles in his skin as Seth littered his face and neck with kisses. "I don't think I can let you go, Atemu," the other confessed, burying his face in the crook of pharaoh's neck. Seth's hands met Atemu's, their fingers intertwining. Atemu sighed and made the brunet pull apart. Their eyes met. "You have to. I have to do this." _

_Seth shook his head and stood up. He had looked away, refusing to meet his cousin's gaze and it only made Atemu follow his lead and leave the bed. "Seth?" Atemu should have known _**this **_was going to happen. The outburst in the throne room earlier that evening was nothing new, yet the pharaoh was sure that had he demanded to talk with his cousin alone, he would have noticed earlier that Seth's problem was nothing else but _**him**_. Yes, it hurt to kill the pharaoh—Atemu was the god on earth and his power was definitely strong enough to make other nations strive to forge better relations with them else, face annihilation by Egypt's shadow powers—but it was so much more for his cousin. Seth was his cousin and his lover, of course it would be more painful! Atemu wished he had thought about this sooner. _

"_I'm sorry, Seth," Atemu whispered, embracing his cousin from the back as he buried his face in the back of the priest's robe. Seth had initially stiffened at the contact; had sighed first before he turned around to face his king. He had then wrapped his arms around the lithe frame of the other, pulling Atemu closer to him as if the space between them could take his cousin away. He leaned to capture the pharaoh's lips in a kiss. Immediately, Atemu's arms were around his neck as his own pair fell on the other's waist. Gone for a moment were the insecurities and the tragedy that would befall their relationship. For a stolen fragment of time, Seth stole Atemu's breath away, made sure that everything he could say, everything he couldn't say, everything he was capable of feeling was poured on that kiss. Time used to be on their side, but no longer. Tomorrow, at dawn, his lover dies… and he was powerless to prevent it. The brunet deepened the kiss and guided Atemu to the bed. _

_Somewhere along the way, as their moans and groans blended into one and their eyes closed in unison, losing themselves to the sensations of everything they were feeling at that moment, a whisper of "My heart beats only for you, Atemu…" rang in the ears of the pharaoh. He looked up, the normally icy blue eyes of his cousin so heartbreakingly warm with an emotion he seldom saw. He felt Seth's lips descend on his own again before lingering on his forehead. "I love you, cousin," the priest promised—_

"You insist on looking at the past, but what use is it if you don't live for the future?" Seto challenged, using the same words Yami had used to him before. He didn't expect anyone else to understand his rival's line of thinking, nor does he expect that Yami would instantly accept _his _advice… but that does not mean Seto could stop and stare, watch the King of Games stoop down for something that shouldn't even be in control of his life. The sooner Yami realized that he didn't need a detailed history, the sooner Seto could stop being so uncharacteristically affected by the other's mistakes and foolish decisions. It was bad enough that Mokuba seemed to like his rival—and by the looks of it, his gray-eyed brother had also chosen Yami as his unofficial bodyguard of some sorts. But this idiocy his rival was insisting to live by is too much.

"You don't understand."

No one does, but that was the story of Yami's life. He neither had a soap opera life nor an inspiring rags-to-riches one and he absolutely had no need for such; however, three thousand years shrouded by darkness was enough to convince him that regardless of the time and the place, what he had and what he lacked were things no one else could ever have or comprehend. Yami could rely on Yugi's friends all he wanted but at the end of the day, they still didn't have an idea about what he needed. He had lost his past—Seto was trying to lose his—and yet nobody insists that he should have one. A past defines a person, or so others say… so, what of him?

"Try me."

"Leave me alone, Kaiba." The CEO's eyebrow raised in response.

The distance between them was not enough to completely satisfy Yami. He wanted Seto away. He wanted his rival to be… well, to be not there with him. A restless, nagging feeling always managed to rattle him up whenever the other was there, as if challenging him not to make a mistake in front of the CEO. Who was the CEO? Who was Seto Kaiba to him? Was he not a rival? And yet, rival he may be, Seto still drove Yami to the edge—which in itself already was confusing enough to make him want to be physically apart from the blue-eyed executive.

"Goodbye and thanks for the dinner," Yami bade and started walking away only to have Seto pull him back again. "What is it this time?" He asked.

"I'll drive you home. That way, you can get home sooner and you can send me the presentation." Yami stared at the other, wondering what the answer meant. For all Seto Kaiba's speeches about not wasting time, was this not 'wasting time'? Just what would Seto benefit from driving him home? Gods, Kaiba was right. He _does _overanalyzes things.

"Fine, Kaiba."

XXX

"Thanks for the ride." Yami smiled at his rival, who acknowledged it with a simple nod. Seto's hand rested on the hand brake between them and it was at that moment that Yami, who was fumbling with the seatbelt, finally admitted that something was wrong with the seatbelt. It refused to budge, and his surprisingly slightly quivering hands weren't helping. The CEO, noticing the cause of the other's 'distress', looked at him before he helped the other.

"Don't mention it." Seto's hand landed on the headrest of the passenger seat, just a few inches above Yami's head. The former pharaoh nodded at the response before realizing how close the other was. He had the mistake of looking at the side and meeting Seto's gaze to have himself drowning in the depths of the other's normally cold eyes. The brunet, whose hand had now fallen on his rival's shoulder, found Yami's eyes as a pair of vibrant, hypnotizing carmine gems… and they were probably the brightest he had ever seen.

Neither of them knew who leaned in first, only that someone _had _leaned in to be met halfway by the other. They didn't know why they had closed their eyes just as their lips met, or why Yami's arms reflexively wrapped themselves around Seto's neck as Seto gently pushed him deeper into the seat. They weren't even aware as Yami's hand found its way into the other's hair and as Seto's mouth slid its way to the tri-haired teen's neck. Seto pursued farther, his fingers working the zipper of the sweater Yami was wearing. "Seto…"

Yami's eyes opened, the sound of himself calling his rival's name reaching him and snapping him awake. The CEO had also stopped and they broke apart. They were panting, their cheeks an adorable hue of red, but that was no longer important.

"I'm sorry," Seto said. Yami nodded and opened the car door. "We didn't mean it, right? Besides, you and I are just rivals, Kaiba. We don't expect anything beyond that, isn't that true?" He smiled at the brunet as if the incident had never happened before closing the door and leaning on the window. "Take care," he bade and headed inside.

The door to the Kame Game Shop had just closed when Seto leaned on the driving wheel and stared at the lighted room on the second floor. _Just rivals_. _**Just **_rivals. The CEO shook his head. "Not anymore, Yami," he whispered before turning the ignition on and driving away. He can only expect things to be strained between them—as if being rivals was not enough, then again, he didn't mind it either, he supposed. He could get by a lot of things without someone hovering his every move.

_You and I are just rivals, Kaiba_.

What if that wasn't the case anymore?


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: To anyone who's still reading this (hopefully, there **_**is **_**someone reading this but if not, heck, I don't blame you guys), I'm so sorry for the extremely late update. It's not an excuse but seriously, college has been hell. Aside from the usual migraines and the colds, deadlines kept harassing me and the almost daily reports and case studies aren't helping, either. I'm actually having my midterm exams this week so I might not be able to work on anything else at the moment. My friend even recommended a hiatus period but… well, honestly, I don't think I can do that. I mean, come on, stay off for a number of weeks without writing anything? That's a nightmare. The internet ban is still there, unfortunately, but at least the computer's working again (thank goodness!). So, hopefully, I can steal some time and work on the next chapters of this and the other story, In Explanation.**

**I'm telling you guys this now because I'm beginning to see a pattern in my life. Rather sad, actually, because everything seems to conspire against me here. Like, hello, I need space to breathe here! :sulks:**

**Anyway, about the chapter… this is longer than most of my previous chapters. But I confess, this was a difficult one to write. I can still remember drinking three cups of coffee just to write the draft through a headache. Well, at least, now I know when not to write. I guess I should also confess that most of the ideas here came from some events that happened throughout the time I was writing. I'd love to hear your thoughts. So, please, drop a word, okay? **

**On another note, a certain person (:nudgenudge: you know who you are… :wink:) requested some angst and I did promise, didn't I? Since Chapter 4, I think. I was hoping for this chapter to be more dramatic than the past five chapters because apparently, I've been focusing on their personalities so much. So uhm… I hope you guys like this twist. LOL. And two flashbacks this time. I'm breaking my pattern. **

… **which reminds me, have you guys, by any chance, read my other currently on-going story, In Explanation? Just wondering. I'm thinking of putting it on-hold because well… admittedly, it's not getting enough support as it is and uhm… Imlackinginspirationneeditsobadly. **

**CHAPTER DEDICATIONS: AT-Y-YGO (Mindtwin, this is for you… even though you're not going to read fanfics anymore…), The Danvers Girls (thanks for all the support!), barrie18 (as usual, your insights really helped me a lot, thank you), Reblue Eyes (DRAGON!!:nudgenudge:)), darleneartist**

* * *

Chapter 6: Truthfully Abandoned

This world was different, completely dissimilar, and absolutely unparallel with another that he knew so well. Although the same natural laws apply, even if the same principles are followed, this 'world' was better off in his perspective. This was his world, a sub-world void of the disorder he had closely associated with everything else—his dimension; his world; his rules. It was where he had grown up in, a place of lying businessmen waiting to be forced into humiliating servility, a place where the rules didn't have to change. Seto Kaiba's world was wonderful and exhilarating simply because he controlled it, from the simplest binary codes to the most traitorous, two-face business 'associate'. It goes without saying that his world was almost perfect for there was little to misinterpret and be confused about. The facts were there for everyone to see; that in his world, tortuous, shady and full of pretense it may be, anyone was welcome to join the race… but they can never defeat the person who easily, almost effortlessly manipulated every variable in such controlled environment, including themselves. Seto Kaiba, whose own adoptive father surprisingly 'fell off' from the 34th window of the tallest building in Domino, was a ruthless, respected businessman. But he was not in his world playing absolute monarch right now. He was in the world of learning even when he knew just about everything this world had to offer.

Outside the classroom, the courtyard, so conveniently surrounded by sakura trees, was empty. When the wind unleashed its cold fury, a subtle warning to its beautiful destructive power, there were no umbrellas, hats and papers to blow away. There were no groups of little boys by the fallen, aged tree, and no giggling girls sending them exasperated, disgusted stares. It was only 6:30 a.m., still so early for class—especially on a Friday like today—and it was obvious that everyone was busy with either sleeping or half-dragging themselves to school. It didn't matter, the lack of twittering, annoying schoolmates, that is; because Seto didn't notice any of it at the moment. The novel he had planned to read lay innocently on his desk as if the mere bold and rough sketches of a temple on the cover would succeed in catching his attention. Seto Kaiba still didn't notice, his gaze sometimes falling, supposedly as an accident, on the seat beside him. When it does, he'd scowl and look away as if the mere absence of the person who sat there just made Kaiba Corporation's stocks go down. His headache had finally manifested and developed into one of those migraines he was so used to having. Funny, he couldn't remember any security breach, virus or even an attempt at a hostile takeover since last night.

What the brunet remembered were surprisingly soft, pliant lips and wide, confused then closing blood-red eyes. Seto remembered having usually stubborn and equally-arrogant Yami under his spell, lured into a dance where he led and Yami merely followed. Seto remembered striking an unvoiced deal with the other, agreeing to forget what happened and pretend no such ridiculous thing transpired between them. He remembered watching the King of Games hesitate to look at him before walking away with something. What that something was, the CEO had yet to find out but he did know that he stayed up late—as usual—to work on a project they will pass today. Mokuba had gone to sleep by then. The deadline was three days away, true, but was it not better to beat it than to 'flow' with it?

Yami insisted that they were rivals, and they are. It was a truth neither of them—should there come a time that one of them would—can deny. They were adversaries to each other, an antithesis for the other's thesis but somehow, after last night, another concept revealed itself. Why? Why was Yami constantly irritating him? Why, of all the people in the world, would he even be competing with a past-less, ancient spirit? Because that spirit, or whatever, had defeated him all the time? They both had pride; they both had something valuable at stake; they both had someone they had to protect. They had almost the same life. Almost. But they were still so different. He was Seto Kaiba, a supposed child protégé who defeated one of Japan's best chess players when he was 9. He was also a Kaiba, who had to endure nights of studying and designing weapons, of blackmailing and secretly scheming against the abusive albeit powerful Gozaburo Kaiba. Seto had to protect Mokuba, to hurt his little wide grey-eyed brother in order to shield him from Gozaburo. Yami, on the other hand—Yami was the King of Games. He was the best duelist in the world, the person to whom Seto was a mere second. Yami was a 3000-year old pharaoh who supposedly sacrificed himself for Egypt. There were few, almost none, facts about the King of Games' past but why was it so important in the first place?

Seto had a past—it was downright horrible (except for some fragments of it); Yami couldn't unlock everything of his. That was better, wasn't it? The past could have been important but it was definitely not as valuable as his rival thinks it to be.

"Kaiba?"

Seto would have glared at whoever had dared disturb him but he knew it was Yugi. Only that Motou had overly-expressive violet eyes, and only he insisted on the notion that Seto wanted to associate himself with the bunch of idiots that hang around the Motous. "What do you want?" he asked of Yugi, who frowned before visibly shaking his head. Just what would it take for Yugi to understand that he simply cannot change Seto into a brainless, dog-loyal smiling person? Odd, that somehow reminded the brunet of Katsuya. Seto grimaced at the thought. It was a good thing he had forgotten to drink his coffee, else he would not be as sleep-deprived to drown out the sounds of one annoying blonde who seemed to be the shrieking baboon he could be at times—correction, most of the time.

"We haven't seen Yami this morning so we… I was wondering if you know where he is." Seto stared at him. This morning? His rival was at the game shop last night.

"I'm not his keeper. I don't know where he is."

"Did he tell you—"

"Look, Motou, we finished our share of the project last night. After he ate, he left. I drove him back to the game shop and went home. Between the times he worked on the project and going home, we barely talked to teach other. Now, will you leave me alone?" Seto answered, glaring at the other as if the glare itself could send Yugi away. Wouldn't that be wonderful? He saw a brief flicker of realization on Yugi's face before Yugi smiled and thanked him, anyway, "for his help". Nice people never got that far in his world, Seto thought. In fact, nice people get pushed to the ground, played with and left broken. The business world was a dog-eat-dog world; it was the brunet's sandbox, castle and fortress. Funny, that wasn't Yugi's or Yami's world, was it? Then their homeroom teacher entered, forcibly smiling at his class. The aging man, who gently patted the shoulder of an inattentive student in front as he passed y, was five minutes early like always. That simply meant more students would be late; they shouldn't have missed the roll call. When the normal buzzing sound of the students' chatter faded, Mr. Koichi Kido started calling the names. 'Present' and 'Here' eventually replaced the students' pre-homeroom conversations.

Neither appealed to the CEO in any way.

"Kaiba, Seto."

The teacher's gaze landed on the quiet (as if that ever changes) brunet, who just as usual arrogantly raised an eyebrow at him. Koichi Kido nodded at the CEO's response before putting a check opposite Seto's name on the attendance list. Sometimes it was tempting to walk over to the brunet and ask why he bothered to go to school when he already knew so much. Koichi may as well be turning 50 in a few months but he was not 'in the dark' to foolishly deduce that Seto Kaiba was here to learn. That wasn't right. The teen, Koichi knew, was here because he had to for the sake of Kaiba Corporation's publicity. It is acceptable to assume that without this so-called publicity, the multinational company wouldn't be as successful? One look at the CEO, who right now glanced at the empty chair beside him, told him otherwise. The sensei noticed the frown that came with it afterward. Why was he even looking at the chair in the first place? Koichi re-read the student list, matched each student with his seat number. 036. Motou, Yami. Ah, the King of Games. Their rivalry was no news. Everyone knew why Seto Kaiba hated Yami Motou so much. Many even believe that had he a chance to escape suspicion, Seto would have killed the other. His narrowed, frigid glares were enough to prove such suspicion. The sense then turned to look at the usually irritating students seated at the far left side of the classroom. Koichi Kido sighed.

"Katsuya, Jonouchi." It sounded more as an exasperated reprimand than a roll call. The blonde who oh-so-enthusiastically chatted with his seatmate didn't hear his name being called. As expected. Yugi Motou stole a glance also at where his cousin should be sitting at the moment, then at the CEO. Koichi had been a teacher long enough to know what those stares meant, and he couldn't help but think that the intimidating, aloof teen by the window was the only other one who was aware of the real reason behind Yami's absence (or tardiness, either way goes). The bell rang and almost half of the class had been called. Most of the latecomers sheepishly grinned at their sensei as they discreetly crept toward their seats. Same old, same old, it seemed. But that didn't interest Koichi right now. Tardiness was not new to the school staff; this myriad of cases had nothing to compare with the silent exchange between Yugi Motou and Seto Kaiba. An almost-obvious denial ghosted over the billionaire's usually inexpressive eyes. "Motou, Yami," the sensei called even though the student wasn't there to answer. What he did get to see was Seto slightly turning to the door as if looking for someone. Yami, perhaps? "Motou, Yugi," Koichi continued and checked on the name when Yugi raised his hand. The concern was still on the teen's eyes. Minutes later, after he paused to recapture his breath, Koichi once again smiled at his class.

"Good morning. I would just like to announce that we will have a general assembly this afternoon from 1 p.m. to 3 p.m. Attendance is a must."

The groans from some students made him smile expectedly. Somehow, he knew this was the response he was going to get. Assemblies never were interesting to these young students of his. "Are there any—"

"Sorry for being late, sensei."

All eyes fell on the newcomer, even Seto who immediately recognized the owner of the baritone voice. Had this been anyone else, he admitted he would have snorted at the calm apology and ignored the latecomer. But this was his rival, and said rival was rarely late for class. Yami may skip classes but he was never late. When the brunet turned to look at the former pharaoh, Seto's eyes widened slightly in disbelief. When usually fiery reds met his stare challengingly, this pair of eyes, which used to glitter a bright carmine sparkle, was dull and almost passive. It confused him. Somehow, it made him think that this version of his rival was never Yami at all. What was going on?

XXX

"_You will do me proud, my son."_

_The pharaoh's face was pale and death-white, wrinkled with the burdens of age. Yet it brightened somehow as the king-to-be knelt by his side and took his calloused hands in grasp. Atemu's eyes were wide and in conflict, as if despite the knowledge that death was upon the bedridden man before him, there was still a possibility of him living through the night. It was small; it was barely even there but it was enough for Atemu to hold on to. He had been taught to be independent, to learn to rely first on himself before asking anyone else for help. He was the heir and eventually, he would be pharaoh… but not this soon. The pharaoh was alright just a few days ago, Atemu knew. They had even hunted together three days before his father suddenly collapsed. 'The pharaoh had been inflicted with an air-borne disease', the healers had said. It wasn't life-threatening. That's what they told him, and now his father was gasping for air like a drowning man would. What was going on? He wasn't ready to take over yet! _

"_My lord."_

_Atemu turned around in time to see his cousin purposely avoid his gaze. It made sense. Now that his father was dying there was no one else who could rule Egypt but Atemu. Seth had wanted to be the Crown Prince but that wasn't possible since the pharaoh had a son. Of course the fact that he was actually the Crown Prince for three years just before Atemu was born didn't help, either. There was a secret resentment in Seth's calculating, azure eyes; and though he masked it well, Atemu managed to feel it almost every time. But it still confused him, he had to admit. Had Seth wanted the throne so badly, he could easily poison his cousin, couldn't he? Atemu dared a look at the brunet beside him who knelt beside him in respect of the pharaoh. It didn't help that Seth's mere presence somehow made the room smaller than it actually was. The prince was sure that the heat on his cheeks gave him away had Seth opted to look at him. He wouldn't be surprised if his High Priest of a cousin would even question his behavior. It was strange of him, and he wasn't denying it. _

"_Atemu, are you well?"_

"_Y-yes, father…" The heir stammered. He could sense Seth shake his head in perhaps disappointment. Seth had always insisted that he behave like a pharaoh would… and well, this was usually one of those times, it seemed if the other's frown was any indication. _

"_You need not be concerned of your son, sire. The court will make sure he will be alright," the High Priest assured. _

"_You will look after Atemu, won't you, nephew?" Atemu paused at the question. He knew the other was slightly taken aback by the seemingly innocent question, and knew just how much of the answer was a lie. _

"_Of course, uncle." _

_And hours had passed._

_The healers were waiting outside with the pharaoh-to-be when Seth finally left the pharaoh's chamber. His head was bowed and his gaze, for the first time, didn't seek out his cousin's. It was one thing to avoid one's gaze when he had not-so-optimistic thoughts raging inside his head; but it was another to directly look away and pretend the other did not exist in the same room. "He's dead," the High Priest whispered. Seth felt before actually seeing Atemu nod as if accepting that piece of fact. They had expected it, hadn't they? The pharaoh was not going to survive the night, and both of them knew that. But knowing and accepting were two so different things… and by the looks of it, his tri-haired, carmine-eyed cousin was having a hard time with the latter. Atemu had gestured for the healers to head into the chamber to check on his father before he turned around and walked away. "Atemu…" Seth called in his usual chipped, almost reprimanding voice—as always—but he wasn't heard. Somehow nothing else seemed to matter to his cousin, and he sort of understood why but that didn't mean he wanted this to continue. "Leave me be," the new pharaoh answered._

_It was minutes later when the monarch was gazing at the stars from his veranda that he was roughly turned around. Atemu met Seth's gaze. Why was he here of all people? His eyes narrowed as he pushed the hands off him. "I want to be alone, Seth," Atemu said matter-of-factly and frowned when the other merely scoffed at his remark._

"_You can pretend all you want tomorrow but right now, you just lost your father. It is expected for the son to grieve, wouldn't it, cousin?" _

"_I do not have time for grieving."_

"_Then make one. I will not be responsible for the people asking if their new pharaoh had a heart at all." _

_Atemu's eyes glowered as he now pushed Seth away from him. "Why do you even care?" You wanted the throne, Seth! You're not expecting me to believe that you're not going to use this against me in the future, are you?" He demanded. It didn't matter if his cousin does that. It really didn't… but the mere thought of someone very close to him, someone of the same blood would even think of betraying him was just so preposterous. It was as painful as watching his father die, and it was probably worse knowing the man before him right now could easily do it. _

"_You don't get it, do you, Atemu?" Seth was furious now. He was never one to deal with another's emotions, and here he was 'consulting' his new pharaoh what could be done. And grieving? He didn't know why he bothered. It was probably because of the promise he made—most likely—but somehow seeing this person in front of him, seeing him look away to pretend the liquid pooling in his eyes weren't really tears of grief was just not pleasing to look at. There were moments when one shouldn't show weakness, yes, but Atemu just lost his father, for crying out loud. Even Seth was not heartless enough to deny his cousin that lone chance to pray for the one who had already departed. _

"_I'm done talking to you. Get out." _

"_Oh, believe me… you'll know when we'll be done, cousin." Seth caught the hands that were trying to push him towards the doors with one hand and pulled his cousin close to him so that they were just some few inches apart. "Let me go!" Atemu tugged on the grip and scowled when the other refused to loosen it. "You are such a brat, Atemu! It makes me think if you really deserve the position you'll be filling in. Are you sure you can take it?" Seth challenged, looking down and smirking as annoying as always. The monarch paused, stared at him for a while before looking away and stopped his struggling altogether. _

_When the struggling had ceased, Seth released the other's hands. Atemu sighed and left him to go to the veranda. "I hate you so much," Atemu whispered more to himself than to the other person in the room. Seth frowned, convinced that he already knew this. "But you're my anchor, Seth. I can't hate you," the pharaoh added. Seth's eyes widened. Anchor?_

_Atemu looked at the brunet. He was everything, literally speaking. This was no romantic idea, not even the least inspired by the feelings he bore for his cousin. It was the truth. Seth was just about everything. Seth was his mentor in an indirect way, his rival and his sort-of friend. There was Mahado… and Mahado was probably the most loyal ally one can ever have, through thick and thin as they say, but it was his cousin who knew when to help him up and force him to the ground. Atemu didn't need coddling. He didn't need to be taken care of, and though it usually gained him opposition and reprimands, Seth was always willing to be the one to do it. It isn't a surprise, then, that of all people, it was this overbearing priest who happened to also be his cousin that he would fall for. _

_Seth shook his head. "You speak of so many foolish things, and this by far is the most. I am not your 'anchor'." Atemu merely smiled fondly at him as if what he had said actually complimented the other. Before he knew it, Atemu had already leaned up and pulled his face down for a kiss. He pushed his cousin away. "What in the world was that?" he demanded. _

"_Isn't it obvious? I'm in love with you, Seth."_

"_That's ridiculous."_

"_I know. But it's there, I can't deny it."_

_Those glittering eyes never lied. Along the way, Atemu may have managed to turn his face into one emotionless mask (thanks to his cousin anyway) but Seth could still see through him. It was in Atemu's normally expressive eyes. All the time. He shook his head and inched away from the other teen. "You may love me, and I still doubt that but you can't expect me to return your feelings, Atemu." _

"_I'm—"_

"_I don't feel the same, cousin."_

_Atemu stared at him, feeling his throat close up. It was suddenly so difficult to breathe, even more, talk. It didn't… he wasn't expecting anything. He didn't expect himself to admit it in the first place! "I—"_

"_I shall see you in the morning. Good night," Seth bowed and left. Atemu can only collapse on his bed, his fall caught by the pillows and prevented him from hurting himself. It didn't matter. It felt like he didn't have to. He could imagine the shards of something so much fragile than himself on the ground. Was it not pathetic? _

The bell rang.

Yami's eyes opened and focused instantly enough to make out Yugi and Jonouchi standing in front of him. If he could, Yami would have sighed in exasperation but he obviously couldn't. He had some explaining to do, and with the way his aibou was staring at him, he also had to explain why he had chosen to block the other.

"Yes, aibou?" he greeted as he picked his school bag and stood up.

"Yami, I'm worried about you. What's going on?" Yugi answered.

"Nothing. I'm fine, little one." Yami sent the other a smile to prove it—

"No, you're not. You barely sleep these days. I know you're thinking about something, Yami. I want to help."

"You can't. It's not your problem."

"Hey, come on, Yami, don't be like that," Jonouchi decided to interrupt. Had he known better, he would have remained as a third person in the entire ordeal. He could have just watched. "We're friends, right? We could help!" Yami shook his head, "And I'm telling you, you can't. Aibou, please, I don't—" The King of Games sighed as he met the other's gaze. "It's not something you should worry about." "What should I worry about, then?" It wasn't fair, and it was stifling. Yami was the one who appointed himself to be Yugi's guardian. Yugi didn't want it. They were 'partners', weren't they? Partnership meant equality. They were protectors to each other, and protected by the other. That was equality; that was what being partners meant… and by the looks of it, somehow Yami had forgotten all about it. Yugi understood his dark's want to protect him and he couldn't blame Yami after all they've been through but the guilt trip has got to stop!

Jonouchi was as clueless as he normally was. No one could blame him. Yugi and Yami were known in their circle of friends to share a mind link so most of their private conversations were well, kept to themselves. But he didn't need a mind link to know what was going on no matter how clueless he may be. It was obvious enough what Yugi was distressed about, and it was usually the reason why he preferred staying in house. It had always been about Yami all these times. With the way things are 'progressing', it doesn't look like Yugi was helping his dark in any way.

Yami had stared at the nearby sakura tree as if fascinated by it more than his light's face. They didn't understand. It was more than the guilt trip.

"I—I can't tell you what it is but you need to know that it is very important to me, Yugi," he faced his lookalike, noticed the grim expression on it and knew how serious his aibou was. "I'm leaving tonight for Egypt. I need to get a few things straight, okay?"

Yugi sighed.

"You're not going to hurt me, Yami. Not like what happened with DOMA. You won't do it again, nor will you let others hurt me anymore and I understand that. I really do… but you're not my personal guard. You're my friend. You're my dark, we're partners. It's a part of who you are. I hope you understand that while you stay in Egypt," Yugi said, "See you in class."

"See you, Yami."

The former pharaoh nodded and headed the other direction.

XXX

Except for the sound of his reverberating footsteps on the polished linoleum floor and the sharp intake of breathe he occasionally lets slip, the museum was just as deathly silent as an ancient meadow moments before a storm. The entire museum was almost empty, with only the guard by the front desk, two younger schoolboys engaged in one of their childish, expectedly-heated arguments, and Yami, who stood pensively in front of a rather familiar slab of stone. There was as much uncertainty in his normally bright crimson eyes but there was also conviction and a hunger in them, as well. For years, he had searched far and wide for anything that would give him even an inkling of what he so badly wanted to know. Efforts were in vain, it seemed; such thought was enough to elicit a sigh from him as he turned away slightly. The King of Games, he may be; outrageously 'skilled' a duelist Yami may be but it was not enough. The fragments of what he assumed to be his past drove him crazy like a frenzied man desperately escaping the hellhounds that ran after him. There was many a thing Yami should be confused about and why he found himself facing the huge chunk of stone before him with images of Seth and Atemu pitted against each other should seriously have him wondering. He, however, wasn't the least interested in the reason. A look at his priest inevitably brought back glimpses of a fairly chiseled face and a pair of cool, nearly-frosted blue eyes that clearly mirrored the frown that came with them.

There was much to think about but what had Yami interested was the selected few memories of High Priest Seth that he had. Yami could distinctly re-witness those times his cousin sent him darkened, deceptively-alluring stares; and even up to now as he stood before the only 'evidence' of his existence in Ancient Egypt, the former pharaoh felt his heart race at the memory of his priest. It was ridiculous but though Seth was no longer there, Atemu as Yami still felt an inclination towards him. He surely didn't know why, yet he was sure—based form the moments he had seemingly shared with the other—that Seth had eventually returned whatever affections his king had for him. Things now were different.

Sadly, someone else thought otherwise. Someone whose own cobalt eyes struck the King of Games almost speechless on those extremely rare times that Yami was caught off-guard, with their ferocity. Yami sighed, unconsciously reminding himself how submitting to Seto Kaiba's kiss felt. When he shook his head as a blatant rejection of such traitorous thought, he suddenly remembered the CEO again… on that lone moment Yami admittedly fell for the other's seemingly spellbinding charm. How preposterous, how utterly foolish. However, he cannot deny that when his blue-eyed rival kissed him last night, everything else became mere background, hazy and illusion-like. It was so wrong for he cannot be attracted to his cousin's reincarnation; and yet, it was the same feeling he knew he felt upon remembering Seth.

They were so alike especially in appearances: striking azure eyes, lean body, unruly though oxymoronically controlled mahogany hair and grim but otherwise loud expressions. With their postures, Seth and Seto looked positively keen on controlling and ruling the world. They had the cunning and the brave waiting for their words. Great people that they may, everyone seemed to be always dominated by these brunets. Yami did not know enough of what had been; however, he knew enough of what is happening to realize the parallelism and twin likeness of both. He saw Seth in Seto, and Seto in the Seth Yami remembered. But for all their similarities, they were still much different from each other. Two different worlds, so to speak. It was natural of Seth to care for his pharaoh, Yami noted, because it was his duty first and foremost. As high priest, Seth was very much aware of his responsibilities and being the king's cousin, he was expected to carry out these well enough to satisfy Atemu. He was tasked to look after Atemu and it was perhaps out of this 'responsibility' did Seth finally appreciate and return his cousin's affections. Seto was not a priest, and he was not Yami's cousin. No binds really tie him to the King of Games except their rivalry. Most anticipated that Seto would witlessly continue his hatred for the other but Yami knew the CEO cared somehow.

'Don't kid yourself, Motou.'

It would have been the proper response Seto will give had he been there in the museum. He wasn't and he could not deny the hypothesis Yami was formulating. It was neither a romantic nor platonic way of caring, mayhap but Yami was important enough because Seto 'hated' him so much to actually stop him from making mistakes that he would regret later. In a way, though they despised each other, they looked out for each other, as well. And it was probably this sort of 'caring' that the former pharaoh was so used to seeing. It was one way of differentiating the past from the present brunet. Deny as he may, Kaiba found ways to protect his rival. For what reasons, Yami had no idea. What he had an idea, however, was that it no longer confused him that much. No, not really. What confused him was the reason Seto kissed him last night when apparently, Seto intensely hated him.

_Days had passed since the pharaoh died. While most of the members of the court hurried here and there to make last-minute preparation for the Crown Prince's immediate coronation—news, after all, of the Hittites oncoming attack never fared well to a king-less country—some were quiet and frantically over-worrying themselves about Prince-soon-Pharaoh Atemu's behavior. Grief had sadly hovered the royal family for decades but it was easily assumed that Atemu, who have lost both his parents, would handle it well. Much of his father's lessons to him were concentrated on standing strong, on being strong in times of adversities and every priest, servant, tutor and general in Egypt knew well enough that Atemu was trying to follow his father's wishes. But the grief was just so evident and seemed too much in the prince's carmine eyes, it was becoming difficult not to look away when he tiredly looks at them. There was more than grief in those eyes, an unfathomable hurt that no one could explain why. Nobody could understand, not even Mahado, who was considered to be one of those few people who oh-so-instantly knew what was wrong with their 'charge'. _

_Atemu would not be deemed worthy to be pharaoh had he failed to recognize who the subject of now-his court's conversations. Their stares and curious gazes were really not hard to ignore, and the glare Mahado was sending his cousin was definitely not so discreet. He couldn't blame his friend but he was not condoning it, either. _

"_Mahado, kindly stay after this; we need to talk, my friend," he remarked just as the elderly priests hastily concluded the day's talks. He sensed Seth's eyes land on him but he shook his head. Mahado bowed in acknowledgment before continuing scribbling down the points of the meeting. _

_Once the last topic of the day was concluded, most of the people in the hall scrambled towards their respective destinations. Ishizu had bowed before requesting that she be excused from whatever activities were left for the day, pleading rest due to a viral disease. Ironic that after his father's death, Atemu's priests and priestess would suddenly have such disease. He naturally let her be and watched her almost trance-like walk away. She was one of his childhood friends and like Mahado and Seth, Ishizu was one of those few people in his court that he instantly trusted. It didn't matter if Ishizu was absent for the day, if she needed to rest, that is. _

"_Atemu." _

_Atemu stiffened as his name was called. Seth's voice was hard and cold as if angry once more for something Atemu probably unknowingly did. He didn't understand why this extremely reserved cousin of his would pester him now of all days. Had it not been Seth who made clear that there was 'really nothing between them but similar bloodlines'? The pharaoh-to-be stole a glance at Mahado, who was unfortunately dragged by Akunadin into one of their own conversations, which was probably about him again. The prince inwardly sighed; he was not up to talking to Seth right now. _

"_What is it, Seth?" _

"_You weren't in your quarters last night." It was a statement: callous and unforgiving as usual, blatantly pointing out an absence that he supposedly noticed. Had Seth gone to his quarters last night? Well, of course, Atemu wouldn't be there last night. He had fallen asleep in Mahado's, discussing the members of his court. Seth, however, need not hear that. _

"_I never realized I should inform you of my activities and whereabouts, cousin." Seth grunted in response and crossed his arms. "Such 'obligation' is as clear as day. Even a child would know that."_

"_Ah, yes. A child. I must ask, though, why do you care? Am I not a 'humiliation'… and what was it that you said? A foolish little prince 'who I refuse to be concerned about'?" Atemu answered hotly. His eyes narrowed in anger and inwardly, self-disgust. He had not expected a confrontation two weeks after _**that**_ happened. He had wanted to talk with Mahado, not with his cousin. From where Seth was standing, it was easy to point out just how irritated at him the other is now. Not that it mattered. Somehow, after all the confessing, nothing else resided within him. There was hollowness in him that Atemu could not explain or even cure. When he admitted his feelings, first there was hesitance and then unnatural resentment at having been turned down. But these thoughts were not voiced out, not when one look at his priest of a cousin could effectively shut him up. Seth did not like it, and he certainly did not the idea of his pharaoh of a cousin was attracted to him. Atemu couldn't blame him. _

"_Oh, believe me, cousin. It's not about caring," Seth spat. "If I were you, though, I would be careful in selecting those who 'comfort' me. I would not like the court as well as the people look at me as if I did not deserve the throne."_

"_Seth!" Mahado cried out, hearing the insult. But the pharaoh merely shook his head in dismissal and glared at his cousin. _

"_Yes, but I am not you. I know well enough to care for those around me and not treat them as dirt. I, for one, am not an egoistic, unfeeling priest like you." Atemu sighed and walked away, leaving the two priests, one who kept his gaze at him and the other frowning in concern. He knew who frowned and silently thanked the gods for such a loyal friend. No amount of cursing Seth, though, stopped the unnatural discomfort that forced the air out of him. He could hate his cousin had he a choice, but such choice seemed to be missing as he felt imaginary needles prick him from all directions. Damn his cousin, why Seth of all people? _

"Don't you get it? I do not care for you. You are my cousin, Atemu, but a cousin you will remain. I am your High Priest and you are the pharaoh. Keep that in mind lest you wish to be flamed for your incompetence in trivial matters such as this."

_And before long, Atemu was rushing to hide in a secluded area of the garden. He didn't know why this insult hurt more than the others. It was not that different; not at all. _

"Yami, snap out of it!"

Kaiba's voice broke Yami's reveries as he turned around to meet the CEO's gaze. Seto had leaned on one of the columns nearby, arms crossed and bangs hiding the extremity of his stare. He would be lying should he say that he was not the least surprised by the brunet's presence but that was not important. It took him a few seconds to realize that the other was still in his uniform. Last time he checked, Seto Kaiba only stayed in such clothes for the majority of the morning and then change into his clothes. From a distance, Yami could read bold, digitalized numbers on the clock—2:35. Classes were not over yet. In the first place, Seto had clearly expressed his disinterest in museums. Waste of time, his rival had said, but he was here. Why was that?

"You don't get tired of staring at those useless slabs of stone, do you?"

"I don't see why any of this is your business, Kaiba."

Seto scoffed. "Is it a crime to go to a museum?"

Yami raised an eyebrow. "Funny you should answer that. When was the last time you went to one without expressing your strong abhorrence of it?"

The CEO shook his head and pushed himself off the column he was leaning on. Precise, small steps led him to his rival. Annoyance was clear in his posture, in the way Seto scowled at the other and quickly flip a small device in front of the King of Games. Cerulean-blue eyes were bright with seemingly righteous anger and iciness—though such sight was not new—and landed on equally-angry reds. "I don't have the time to argue with you, Yami. Here." He handed the device, aware of the other's present suspicion and mild curiosity. Then again, that was not a different thing between them, either. He shook his head out of exasperation when the duelist didn't take it. "Will you spare me of your melodramatics and just take the bloody thing?" Yami did as instructed but still remained quiet. After a while and after pocketing it, he asked, "What is it?"

"It's an advanced mapping device, as you can _clearly _see."

"Yes, but why are you giving it to me?"

To Seto, the answer was a moot point. He wanted to give it because he wanted to, no ulterior motives whatsoever—which understandably caused the other's suspicion. Then again, it wasn't important, either. What his rival did with what _he _gave was no longer his business. Should Yami throw it, return it or even smash it on the floor, it was still Yami's decision. Why was he giving it? **Because.** Honestly, Seto had no idea. There was just a need to give the King of Games such device, and it kept nagging him since his first class started hours ago. "Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does."

"Well, to me, it doesn't."

XXX

**A/N: I'm going to end it here for now because really, I owe you guys an update. Who knows how many days it would take me if I decide to add some more in this chapter. Seriously! And this one… it's giving me headaches just deciding between adding some more or keeping this as such. Fourteen pages… whew. :shakes head: Not much of action here, just a lot—and I mean a LOT—of flashbacks and thinking, I guess. Hope it's okay.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: One million rewrites later and this is what I bring you. Gawd. I'm so horrible. I'm sure not many have heard but this chapter is very much inspired by the not-so-dandy things that have been happening to me lately. I seem to have a bad luck magnet inside me or something. I also realized that I've been delaying Yami's trip to Egypt and majority of my plans too much. For that, I apologize. **

**I would also like to remind anyone who's still—hopefully—reading this that the pairing is not certain yet. I'm not going to tell you why because I want the chapters to be the reason. As you can see, it's a one step forward two step back progress when it comes to this two… but eventually, they'll get over their dilemmas and insecurities. Hopefully. Probably. :sweatdrop: Just so you know… it isn't easy to sneak a chapter into the college computer. But seeing that it IS an Internet Center of some sorts, I seem to have gotten away with it. Hey, at least I'm doing something worthwhile! Right? Right? :crickets chirping: **

**I'm so awfully sorry for not updating. Read on… oh, and enjoy! **

**MANY THANKS TO: Depraved Doll, IntheShadowofSignificance, Darleneartist, SK100187, Dragonlady222, PrincessVictoriaAnnMacbeth, The Danver Girls (Imouto, what's going on?), and Barrie18. **

* * *

**Chapter 7: Inadequate Reasons **

The sound of small, hurried footsteps had eventually faded. Around the very room where the exhibit was found in, there was nothing else to imply that someone was actually inside the museum. The columns, so extravagantly brightened up by real torches, had slowly darkened just as the fire in the gold-painted torches gradually died out. If it were anyone but the two teens inside _that _exhibit, that person would have realized that the museum would be closing in a matter of minutes. Logic would have then required him to gather his wits, make sure he doesn't leave anything behind and leave quietly to look for the nearest exit or souvenir shop (if he was in the mood to buy anything from the museum). A part of him would have asked if the entire trip to the museum was worth it and frankly, he wouldn't have any idea. It was the usual thing: ancient stuff, hieroglyphics, plaster coffins and makeshift slabs of stone. He wouldn't even know why he was in the museum in the first place.

But the two teens _were _the only ones in that exhibit. And for the most part, they weren't looking at any of the 'ancient stuff, hieroglyphics…' They had glared at each other at first, trying to find out why the other was there then trying to understand the reason, if there was a reason, behind them being at the same place together. Seto Kaiba had already given the device to his rival, who promptly shook his head and made a move to give it back. Of course, that was a huge blow to the CEO's ego. Kaiba's eyes had narrowed then but whether out of suspicion or anger, it was difficult to tell. They had started arguing anyway.

"I'm sure I won't lose my way in Egypt, Kaiba. You can have this now," Yami still so stubbornly insisted. There was just no way that he was going to owe something to the brunet. Not this time, for that matter. He extended his hand, on it the very gadget they were fighting over. The CEO looked at him incredulously then in secret exasperation before taking a step back and frowning. Yami was very much adamant to return it, though, and before Seto could even hide his hands, the tri-haired duelist had already ensnared one and forced to hold the returned gadget. The King of Games almost beamed if it weren't for the annoyance so clearly displayed on the other's face.

Yami could have asked himself why he was bothered by it. Annoyance was annoyance. There was nothing so new about it. Come to think of it, he could ask a lot of questions about Kaiba right now. Why he was there in the museum should be the first. Yami refused to believe that the CEO, who planned his day ahead and hated "wasting his time", would decide on a whim to take a look at the city museum. That was a decision the former pharaoh knew the other didn't do ever. What was there to see except objects and scrolls from Ancient Egypt, anyway, right? He looked at his rival, surprised that Seto was also looking at him.

"I'm not going to take it back. I already told you, do what you want with it. I don't care," Seto said. He didn't try to pull his hand away from the other's grasp.

At the back of his mind, Kaiba was very much aware that he had just missed this afternoon's Board meeting. Yvette would be calling him now, 'worried' that her boss had forgotten his schedule (but mostly, she was worried the CEO would fire her… Seto couldn't blame her). The vibration from his phone was evident to that; Seto instinctively switched the phone off. He met Yami's gaze and scowled when Yami suddenly withdrew his hand and looked away. There was a blush on his rival's cheeks, and for the life of him, Kaiba had no idea why it was there. The mapping device was still with Yami, though, and for that, the brunet could only smirk, hoping the other would rise up to his bait.

Yami didn't.

He had sighed, had noticed the smug look on the brunet's face and had shaken his head instead. Did Kaiba even notice that just behind him was the image of Yami's priest? Did Kaiba notice that when he smirked, the amusement shone clearly in his eyes? Were not those the same pair of eyes that had him rooted at one spot last night, same blue eyes that burned in cold anger like bluish-white flame? The former pharaoh had to look away. Suddenly, Seth and Seto looked so much alike and so much like they're just one person. Yami wanted to leave for Egypt to know more about Seth and his past but Seto was here, in front of him, smirking. Smug, overbearing Seto Kaiba was here—the same person who kissed him last night for some unknown reason; the same person who _agreed _to put the said kiss behind. And Yami realized, just as he let go of the brunet's wrist that his heart was pounding really hard. That certainly didn't make sense.

The King of Games pocketed the gadget and turned to leave.

"I have to go."

"Just because you're in Egypt doesn't mean I'm not going to follow you."

Yami turned around, eyes flashing in anger. "That's just it! Why do you keep following me, Kaiba? What the hell do you want from me?"

A few days ago, he would have teased his rival for being a 'stalker'. As he forced Kaiba to rest and momentarily forget about his wounded brother, Yami would have wondered if the eyebags under the brunet's eyes were any indication that something was wrong. He would have demanded the reason behind Kaiba's frequent visits—no matter how unwelcomed most of them are—and would have instead encouraged the other to 'waste' his time on more important things, such as sleeping. He had promised Mokuba to look after the CEO… but right now, Yami was far from being the concerned friend. He has his own problems and he needs to solve them on his own… without meddling, stalking stubborn brunets making things worse!

"I'm sorry."

Seto Kaiba was not the slightest aware that just after apologizing, Yami had immediately stiffened, eyes wide in shock and honest disbelief. There was confusion, too, but seeing that the King of Games had turned his back on the other, Seto didn't have a chance to see it for himself. The former pharaoh's frequent outbursts lately admittedly disturbed him, and much of it, Seto could blame on the 'incident'. There was nothing else to blame on anyway. But as far as he was concerned, it was a lapse of judgment. Granted that he did kiss the other, that it was _he _who initiated the kiss, was it more appropriate to seek the reason behind it? He frowned, catching Yami shake his head at probably his apology. Why did he apologize? Honestly, Seto didn't know.

In the first place, what was he apologizing for?

"Why?" Yami echoed loudly.

As much as the CEO prided himself as a man of logic, one who seeks facts more than silly idealistic notions and losing one's self in the past, there was so much more to be embarrassed about. Yami had turned now to face him. To question him—and he would have answered in the most natural of ways: that is, telling the other off. Most of the time, Yami had no right to interfere. But this time, things were different, and to the brunet's dismay, just as he loved being a man of certainty and security through concrete evidences and logic, he had no answer for his rival.

_Why, indeed._

XXX

At pre-dawn, the sun hung low and most of the residents of the city were fast asleep. There was a mist around the buildings, and it was thickest at the KC Tower. Not that anyone noticed it, anyway. Few at that moment would have believed that Domino City was one of the busiest cities by day; then again, it was only 5 o'clock. What would they know? Except perhaps for the hospital staff, policemen and the firemen, everyone was busy with resting, if not working late at night like some business executives. What was remarkable about the city at night was that it was very much at par with what it is at day. Unlike New York, or Las Vegas, or Tokyo, it was as dead at night as it was alive at day. It felt almost surreal, if not for the stray individuals lurking at night and waiting fervently for a victim—they are often disappointed by sunrise. There were no cars in the streets, blowing their horns loud enough to drive the sanest, rushing businessman nuts (and if there were, these were the ones headed home to catch some shut-eye or rushing to hospitals and police stations).A reasonable few cars were headed south of the city, where the airport was conveniently located.

The flight to Egypt was at 7 a.m., two hours and forty five minutes from now. Yami sighed tiredly, resting his head on one of his bags that he placed beside him. It was clear that he didn't get enough sleep as was expected of those with x-number-of-hours flight to another country. Yugi had gone into his room the night before, determined to get things straight between him and his dark. After shaking his head and quite clearly declaring that it wasn't his aibou's fault at all, Yami had to witness Yugi narrow his eyes rather dramatically—for the record, Yugi Motou never glares at his dark _ever_… except this one time—and demand the reason behind the former pharaoh's uncharacteristic and very troubling silence. It was one thing to be silent and pensive, something Yami had been since he was given a second chance at living, but it was another (or so Yugi said) to sulk and brood all day.

"_It's not like you!" _

What is it to be 'like him' in the first place? He could only imagine what brought his light to such conclusion. But Kaiba had believed the same thing, hadn't he? Yami couldn't think of any other reason why his rival would even go to the museum and give him something. Two people now claim that he was being 'uncharacteristic', that something was _actually _bothering him… but where was the basis? Yugi was his hikari, his partner and this amethyst-eyed teen was the only person who could really claim that he knew the former pharaoh enough. Yet, in his case, can someone really know him enough without knowing what he was in the past? If it were even possible, it was difficult to do so.

Yami knew that he was pharaoh in his past life. Marik had told him after being defeated at Battle City, and from then on, it was never enough. Every time he dueled, every time he sparred with Kaiba, there was always a nagging voice at the back of his head telling him that something was missing. Wholeness was to him something he could attain once he learned what he was before. Was that not the way of learning, to learn from the past?

He could understand the CEO's hatred for it. Except for those rare, almost surreal moments he and Mokuba shared before they were sent to the orphanage, Seto's life was very much a disaster any child would not want to have. Yami had understood that it was the brunet's choice to suffer under the hands of Gozaburo Kaiba as he planned the elder's downfall. It was what Seto Kaiba would do—anything for his little brother. But would the CEO be what he is now if he had not been neglected in the orphanage? Had he not been beaten and watch his younger brother be bullied from one side to another, would the brunet be strong enough to let other people hurt him so? The past made his rival what he was now; and much would be said for Yami's hikari.

Where did that leave Yami?

Even the kiss, albeit accidentally and completely out of the blue, mean nothing more than what it is now. How can someone fall for someone if one of the steps sin loving someone is to know that person well? Kisses were gestures of affection. But for a past-less individual, there are so many things one kiss could mean… and so many questions to answer, too.

Yami blinked and rubbed his eyes instinctively. Sleep was beginning to dawn on him, the Sandman pouring imaginary bags of sand on his eyes. The coffee shop in front of him wasn't opened yet. He eventually realized that there was no escaping sleeping—or taking a nap, for that matter—this morning. Around him, the people were already leaning on their forearms or their bags, eyes closed and resting. Two hours would be enough for a nap, they probably realized. Yami should be realizing the same thing by now, but he hasn't. The incident at the museum was still very much fresh in his mind, thank you very much… and until he figures out why of all things holy did he even think of comparing Seth with Seto, there would be no napping for him.

Granted that technically, Seto Kaiba was his cousin's reincarnation, were they not as different as two magnetic poles? (Ah, but opposite poles attract, don't they?) Physical appearances aside, Seth and Seto were not alike. From what he could remember of his cousin, Seth was almost bound to his duty. Seth was his High Priest, and therefore his identity was mostly developed through what he did while performing his duty. He calculated his every move, and planned every word he uses. But premeditation was not deception, and Seth, really, could not lie to his pharaoh of a cousin. As much as he was feared at, the High Priest was a very expressive person. Seth never probably considered masking his emotions a way of deceiving people… or perhaps he never saw it important.

And that was the difference, wasn't it? Seto Kaiba was everything his cousin wasn't. Even if both of them have some similar qualities, mostly the CEO was acting not like a reincarnation would. That was the problem. Yami didn't understand why he felt attracted to his rival when in the past, his cousin was already his lover. What did Seto Kaiba have that High Priest didn't have?

_I don't know, _Yami admitted to himself as he closed his eyes and finally drifted to sleep. The King of Games couldn't have turned around even to steal a glance as another figure entered the airport, carrying a small travel bag of his own. Said figure had thrown him a look, frowned in concern before heading for the opposite row of seats. It wasn't time to meet the other yet.

XXX

"_He is a traitor, my liege."_

"_Enough."_

_One word effectively forced the court to close their mouths. One look at their enraged pharaoh was enough for them to look at each other worriedly. Mahado had, much Atemu would be grateful for, finally settled quietly in his seat, watching the others question their king's decision not to extract what they deemed was the right punishment for betrayal. It was an insult on Mahado's part that after claiming he would protect the pharaoh from anything that might hurt him; he couldn't even stop the person _**closest** _to Atemu from hurting the monarch. It hadn't made sense when Mahado learned of it, but Atemu merely shook his head and requested him to "let it go". The priest in him was sure that he would be after the 'traitor's' head, but at that moment, he was a friend to a disappointed and much more hurt brother-at-arms._

_It didn't mean, however, that Mahado had forgiven what had happened. And by the looks the pharaoh was giving him now, amidst the noise of the other members of the court convincing their king to change his mind, Mahado was sure Atemu knew of it, too. _

"_My pharaoh, he has made it clear that his intentions revolve on killing you and claiming the throne. We must do something!" Akunadin's voice rang out loud enough to make his nephew wince at the tone. To a random spectator who has knowledge of what the elderly priest has been doing, the entire outburst seemed completely false. But Atemu held his ground. He was the most stubborn person Mahado ever knew. _

"_Fret not, uncle. _**I **_will do something. I will talk to him but I will—" Atemu glared at his court, "—not demand his death for his 'sin'." The pharaoh already knew that more than half of the men inside the room clearly and adamantly doubted him. His right hand clenched on the parchment that was found on his nightstand before absentmindedly shaking his head. . _

"_But sire!" _

"_No!" _

_The exclamation was enough to convince everyone to stop pushing for what they wanted. Akunadin's eyes had widened before narrowing, most likely insulted by the youth's rash behavior. Shimon, who sat beside him, stared worriedly at the young king along with the equally young priests and priestess. But unlike most of them, Shadi and Mahado merely looked at each other, nodded their heads and met the gaze of their friend-slash-pharaoh. Atemu apparently wanted this conversation to end. The truth already hurt but Atemu didn't need everyone slapping him with it. In the first place, weren't they supposed to discuss about the Nubians' plan to attack in two months time? _

"_This court is dismissed. We will discuss about _this_again tomorrow morning," Shimon declared after receiving the nod from his charge. He stole a look at the elderly priest beside him, watched Akunadin stand up and walk out in anger. Akunadin never liked traitors—ironically, this time the traitor, it seemed, was Seth. _

_Atemu blew a sigh and went back to his throne, looking at one remaining priest after another. Mahado still haven't stopped casting glances at Seth's vacant seat; neither had Shadi. Yet he couldn't blame them. No one expected this to happen, especially him. Last time he checked, Seth was infuriated with Bakura's latest escape and had used every available resource he could find to run after and capture (if not kill) the tomb robber. If it weren't for Atemu's orders to stop his cousin, Seth would have fallen for the trap Bakura had made and would have died. As expected, the priest didn't like it at all… and had a violent argument with his cousin in the pharaoh's chambers. _

_That was two nights ago. And now, here was a letter written by his High Priest—his Seth, his cousin; why does this have to happen?—denouncing all ties with the Kingdom and its pharaoh. In the midst of the disturbances Bakura and his thieves have started and the Nubian attacks, Seth chose to leave now and side with the enemy. Atemu stared forlornly at the parchment, vaguely aware that Mahado and Shadi had momentarily gone outside and that he was alone in the throne room. Seth's actions did not make sense. No one undergoes a change of heart so quickly. Not even his cousin… and yet, _**this** _happened. What was going on? What is Seth even planning? _

"_Hello, cousin." _

_The whisper was so unexpected and near that upon hearing it, Atemu had stiffened and forgotten to breathe. When a few moments ago, he was not aware of his surroundings, now he was more than aware that there was a dagger on his throat and a person just a few inches beside him. The warmth was a clear indication to that… and that warmth felt so adoringly good and familiar. Atemu closed his eyes. "Seth…" _

"_I would expect that after receiving my letter you would have an entire army in this room to protect you. I am mistaken, then. A pity," the brunet greeted sardonically before chuckling at the thought. If it were possible, the blade seemed to press closer to Atemu's throat than before. _

"_I don't understand—"_

"_That's the problem, _cousin_. You don't understand anything at all… you pretend to, I give you that, but you're not as experienced as you thought yourself to be," Seth chided. Atemu felt the other shake his head. _

_Seth pulled him closer such that he was pressed tightly to the throne. The blade glistened dangerously on his neck; and yet, despite his discomfort, Atemu tried very hard not to move away. The absence of struggle on his part should have confused him, but Atemu wasn't. Neither was Seth. But by Ra, isn't Seth aware that his mere presence has such an effect on his pharaoh of a cousin? The former High Priest laughed suddenly as if hearing the silent question from the monarch, retracted the dagger and dragged the other up. The mischief, although familiar, was sinister on Seth's cobalt eyes. There was something different with his cousin, Atemu concluded. Unfortunately, what the difference was, he couldn't figure out. And there's still the reason behind the change of sides…_

"_Why?" Atemu asked. The glint in Seth's eyes darkened._

"_Because."_

"_You said you would always side by me," Atemu responded, "No matter what."_

"_I'm here _by your side_, aren't I? I'm a man of my word, I don't break my promises. Surely you, of all people, would know that." _

"_And yet, you betray me. Why, Seth?" _

_Instead of an answer, Seth grabbed him and fled to the chamber on the far right of the throne room. Atemu didn't even let out a cry of surprise. He had looked at the priest in surprise, yes, but this was… totally uncharacteristic. A traitor would either kill him or lead someone in to kill him. Seth had done neither, so far. What's going on? _

_When the priest thought they were safe to conduct conversation, Atemu pulled away and when the other made an attempt to approach him, Atemu stepped back. "Don't," he warned, glaring hard at the brunet. From the throne room, he heard the loud, careless entrance of the palace guards. Akunadin's shout resonated well along with Mahado's demand that the assassin-to-be (who apparently thought the pharaoh would be in the throne room) be questioned and then punished for his crime. The pharaoh looked at the brunet. "Explain." _

"_One has to hurt first, before being saved." And everything went black. _

Yami's eyes opened at that instant, hearing the call of the flight attendant for the passengers of his flight to board the plane. He grabbed his bags and left. At the back of his mind, he thought that the dream did not make sense.

XXX

He should have asked for directions.

Apparently, the language barrier was not reason enough to not ask for help. Yami glanced at his watch, very much aware that Ishizu had been expecting his arrival since two hours ago. Now, he was lost. The former pharaoh shook his head and glared at the nightsky, as if it were the cause of all his misfortune. Curse this, he should have just accepted Ishizu's offer to fetch him from the airport. But no, he had to be the know-it-all who gets his mobile phone stolen. What's worse is that he doesn't even understand much of Egypt's language. He may be an Egyptian but the language at that time was completely different from what is the country's official language.

One more wrong turn and Yami met a dead end.

"What do we have here?" The man's poor English-speaking skills caught Yami's attention. He turned around and met five men. Why now? In the first place, what do they want?

"Looking for your mommy?" another taunted.

"If you don't mind, I have other things to use my time with. Excuse me," Yami replied, hastily walking away until of course, someone held him back.

"That's a pity. We want to play with you."

"I'm afraid you have to look for other… playmates. Then again, your _mommies _might be looking for you, too. Maybe you forgot your teddy bear?" Yami had never been one to back down from a verbal challenge—from any kind of challenge, for this matter. No one insults him and gets away, no matter the size or the height. There are exceptions, though. But at the moment, he was not in the mood to be the sane, average person. He wanted someone to be blamed for his luck, regardless of how immature such thought is. And these… thugs are beginning to look like they're volunteering.

The first punch was totally unexpected and sent Yami to the ground. His jaw hurt but not as much as his head after hitting the wall. When he had gone down, two of the men threw themselves at him and slammed him to the brick wall. Thug #1, the one with the poor communication skills, laughed and punched him on the abdomen.

"That hurt, didn't it? Hah. There's more to come," the 'thug' promised.

"Make sure you don't break a nail. I hate the sound of men whimpering after they break a nail," Yami replied as he fought hard not to retch.

"Smart-ass, aren't you?" the man behind Thug #1—Yami decided to call the man, Thug #2—snapped before kicking him. Not that it mattered. At that point, the entire world was blurring into dark shades of blue and brown, interweaving with each other. The King of Games had wanted to fight back and he did try, but the punches as well as the blood loss had rendered him defenseless. It would be nice to beat some sense into those five men, though. Yami just couldn't do it right now…

"Wimps," he mumbled. And then the world faded into black.

Seto Kaiba was by no means a stalker. He was _thorough_ but no, he does not stalk people. He wasn't the least interested in what people do; he wasn't interested with who they talk to and who they make faulty agreements with. When in the road, the CEO was concerned about going to his destination in the fastest time as possible and (albeit unconsciously) running through as much red lights as he could. But when he passed by one darkened alley and noticed one very familiar figure with tri-colored hair slid down from the wall and into the middle of five men who crowded around him, Seto stepped on the breaks and put the car on reverse. That isn't Yami. It's not _him_. It _was _Yami, and no amount of denial could change that fact.

"Someone's here. Let's scram!" one of them cried just as the brunet stepped out of his car. Yami didn't even move as his assaulters ran away. Then again, no unconscious person would do that. Seto scowled and ran towards the fallen body, checking for wounds. There were none, but Yami was probably bleeding internally now. The CEO shook his head and carried his rival to the car. From afar, he could hear the sounds of the fleeing assaulters. He didn't even try to see any physical descriptions to have those men arrested. But they weren't important. Yami was. And right now, he needed to bring the other duelist to a hospital.

"You are such an idiot, Yami," he whispered before turning the ignition on. Except for the bruise on Yami's jaw, the way the former pharaoh's golden bangs slid down to his face made the duelist vulnerable to a fault. It made him adorable to an extent, too. No! Seto thought, Get him to the hospital!

A few minutes later, they were in the city's general hospital. Yami had been wheeled into the emergency room. There were fortunately, no serious injuries—then again, Seto already knew that—but the former pharaoh had to stay in the hospital for a few days. The CEO had no problem with that… and at the moment, Yami was not in the position to decide over such things.

"Please prevent him from making any unnecessary movement, Mr. Kaiba," the doctor had said before leaving. Kaiba had only nodded, his stare intently focused on the figure on the bed.

_You could have offered a ride when you saw him in the airport. _

He could have. Seto should have. But he didn't, and there really was no point of being so dead guilty about it? He was here with Yami in the end, wasn't he? At the end of the day, he made sure no further harm could be inflicted on the former pharaoh. Seto didn't have to feel guilty about it—_Mokuba's accident wasn't your fault, but you were guilty. _Yami didn't want anyone following him. If Seto made his presence known, his rival would have done everything he could just to get away. In the end, even if the CEO was there to offer a ride, Yami would have denied the offer the same way he refused to accept the mapping device (the fact that Yami eventually took the device is insignificant).

Seto thought of the first time his rival was in his car. They had had dinner then, and they had been working on a project for class. Disregarding the fact that he forced Yami to be his partner, both of them had a relatively good time working on the project. There were some misunderstandings—they're rivals, after all—and there were a lot of taunting. But those were normal, weren't they? Dinner had been pleasant except for some parts. The drive home had been pleasant and silent. Okay, so it wasn't exactly as comfortable as it should be but Seto couldn't help it, could he? He didn't like being analyzed like some biology experiment. His secrets are his own and his past—forget his past. If he, himself, refuses to approach it, what gives anyone else the right to know about it?

Then there was the kiss. Seto would be lying should he say that he didn't think about it at all. The question of why they kissed would always be unanswered. As it is, they had kissed for no reason at all. It must have been driven by instinct. But why? This was frustrating. Hadn't they made a deal that they would forget about it? Of course they did, Seto answered bitterly. That's why he couldn't get his answers. On his part, he didn't have an answer. Maybe Yami has one.

Seto wouldn't deny that he cared for the former pharaoh. Yami was just too annoying and too imposing to not be cared about. It annoyed Seto Kaiba that he couldn't convince the other to just let go of the past. It annoyed him that Yami couldn't move on. For crying out loud, whatever happened three millennia ago wouldn't destroy the life he has now! What's so difficult to understand about that? Besides, what was important about the past? It would have been better to be born without knowledge of the past, wouldn't it? There wouldn't be any nightmares to scare you at night. No skeletons in the closet, no buried problems. A life without the past, or an awareness of it, would have been nice. So why isn't Yami enjoying it?

"_You insist on looking at the past, but what use is it if you don't live for the future?"_

_Yami had stared dead-on. _

"_You don't understand."_

_A challenge?_

"_Try me."_

"_Leave me alone, Kaiba." _

He could have left the other alone. And yet, he wouldn't have. There was a difference between being able to do something and wanting to do it. For some unknown reason, Seto refused to let Yami be. Since that night, since that kiss, nothing else filled the CEO's mind. Fate was nice to him this week, not letting idiots in his Board make his day unbearable. The glitches in the system weren't that difficult to handle, too. So yes, Seto Kaiba had been thinking about his rival. He had been watching the other, and witnessed the aibou and the yami fought because of the King of Games' destructive obsession with his past.

_Seto Kaiba, you are equally as obsessed. _

He wasn't. Was he?

A pained groan from the bed caught his attention.

"Yami?"

"_Seth…"_

XXX

**A/N: One chapter down! Thank God! I've been thinking about the best way to use the last line. And whew, I finally found it. Yey. Finally, feelings are escalating! Or are they? Lol. Oh no, finals are next week. :whines: This is so unfair!! :cries: Review, please? **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: GAWD, I miss updating! And yes, I managed to upload this 10 minutes before classes start! Woohoo! **

**So sorry for the incredibly delayed update! Seeing that this is late, I made it longer to uhm… 10 pages. Is that okay? ::sighs:: **

**Hopefully this is more interesting than the previous chapter. I've given much thought to how Seto and Yami will end in this story and I understand that people will be disappointed if they don't end up together. I can't honestly see any of my stories ending with them apart. That's just a no-no, I guess. Anyway, to answer the question, **_**yes**_** Seto and Yami will be together. They'll have a (hopefully) nice and happy ending for this story—which is two to three chapters away—and maybe I'll give Seth and Atemu a sequel for their own ending. But I'm not sure about that yet. **

**By the way, I noticed that those who read this story also read In Explanation (well, some) and Photo Effect. Mind me asking: which would you want me to update first? **

**Review, please? **

**Oh, right. I forgot to put in Chapter Dedications. Next chapter, okay? **

* * *

**Chapter 8: Rusting Blades **

Ironically, Yami wakes up to find himself dreaming.

The wind knocks his breath out in an instant. At a distance, he could hear the mad rush of water. It makes him want to see what body of water it is and he starts walking, but doesn't go past five steps. This is a dream; he is dreaming, he tells himself and notices that under the shade of two palm trees that stood on a hill overlooking a river is Seth. Seth, clad in his ceremonial robes yet without his tall bluer-than-blue headdress, has his back turned to Yami. It takes a few minutes for Yami to realize that Seth doesn't hear him, or feel his presence. A repulsive thought, but Yami instantly agrees hands down when his touch only ghosts over the priest's flesh. He believes this isn't a dream immediately after, believes that here, Yami is a sort-of ghost.

They stand just a few inches apart now; he and Seth, who still doesn't and wouldn't know he's here. It's disorienting to touch the brunet's arm and not be acknowledged, to not have the other turn to him and ask what he wanted or just plain react. The thought that he's only a spectator watching the familiar signs of distress project themselves on Seth makes Yami feel pathetic and guilty. He hates Seth act like this, eyes closed in submission and defeat. He hates Seth heaving a shuddery sigh to stop himself from crying, and knows the other needs to do this. Seth hates crying; he never really cried, not since he celebrated his 10th birthday. The clenched fists, stiff posture and downright miserable look so clearly expressed on Seth's face tells Yami that he _is _crying silently, tears running down slowly, almost invisibly. Yami doesn't remember why.

He watches and curses his helplessness—

"Atemu…"

And he curses himself. He isn't Atemu anymore, hasn't been the pharaoh Seth loves since he trapped himself in the Millennium Puzzle and lost his memories. Yami wants to make everything better and be the one Seth wants. He wants to be able to take the bloodied dagger, stained most likely with his—no, Atemu's blood, from Seth's hand. But wanting is often useless and the dripping blood becomes the catalyst to everything here making sense.

"Ra, how could you let me do it?!"

Seth sobs the pharaoh's name and drops the dagger like it has been cursed. Yami doesn't try to pick up the forgotten blade, knowing the effort will be futile, because now he realizes this is the hour after Atemu's death. He's had enough memories to tell him that the priest needed to kill the pharaoh for the sealing ritual to work. He feels bad and remembers loving this spot of land. In the past, he loved this place. This was a small haven, a sanctuary for the pharaoh he was back then. Yami feels horrible for forgetting and tries to apologize to Seth, to Atemu. He fails. 'I'm so sorry' becomes a regret he shares with his mind.

A few minutes later Seth calms down and realizes he needs to get a hold of himself. And even though Yami, whose poor timing makes him think why he's dreaming and what happened before he fell asleep, remembers just fragments of Seth, he recognizes this behavior easily.

Once upon a time, he knows he made Seth promise to live and be pharaoh despite the loss, despite his death. Yami considers it practically and exactly what he would have done; and the priest would try to fulfill it because _Atemu _asked him to and he loved Atemu enough to not deny him anything. Seth will fulfill his promise, Yami knows that enough. Seth will live and be the pharaoh just as his cousin wanted him to.

"I can't be pharaoh," Seth whispers brokenly to himself.

Yami hears him and sees the guilt and edginess, and is horrified by the grim determination and misery the brunet's eyes glimmer with. Somehow he knows what's going to happen.

"Not without you," the priest adds and before Yami could utter a word, Seth, who's as agile a fighter as he is a powerful priest, grabs the dagger and buries it deep within his gut. He gasps in pain.

Yami was too shocked, too awestruck by what Seth did that he couldn't speak. The priest sinks to his knees, mumbles an apology to his pharaoh and closes his eyes. Seth loses blood fast but Shadi suddenly arrives, runs through Yami (who shuddered at the impact, or lack thereof), calls the fallen priest a fool without meaning it and tries to stop the bleeding after he pulls the dagger out. Seth was losing consciousness gradually through it all and Yami watches in horror. Shadi immediately takes control of the situation, takes the unconscious, wounded brunet to his waiting steed and rides away.

Seth's fate remains an uncertainty.

By then, the desert had already faded into a stale grey screen. The sand becomes cemented ground and the river becomes a street. He stands at the center, transfixed by how surreal everything is and absentmindedly watches the cars pass by fast, as if beating the speed of light. Yami bows his head, concedes defeat and yearns to know what happened to Seth. At the far recesses of his mind, he is responsible for what the priest did. He isn't Atemu anymore but he broke Seth, drove him to kill himself. When he could have done something to prevent it, he simply stood and watched. And knowing this hurts, knocks the very wind out of his lungs until he wheezes so desperately for air. His heart pounds against his ribcage angrily and he feels that he's the most horrible, worthless person in the world.

Ra, it hurts so much.

"Seth…"

Yami wakes up and meets Seto's slightly-widened, surprised eyes.

The irony doesn't amuse him at all.

XXX

For the remainder of the night, the hospital began to wind down. There were some nurses that occasionally went into the rooms, checking for the pulse and blood pressure of every patient. Standard procedure, they said. The doctors were few, most were probably on their way home for dinner; and a majority of patients were asleep. Recuperating was the better word. Once the visitors have been told that they needed to go—after all, the hospital allowed them until 9 p.m. to stay with their loved ones— and after they've all gone, promising to be back the next day, the flurry of activity that ricocheted within the walls of the newly-built hospital started to die down. Except for emergencies, the hospital could be an awfully boring place.

Yami Motou was officially brought in at 7:29 p.m. with multiple cuts and bruises on his body. The doctor had him rushed into the emergency room then told him to have his head x-rayed. They would never know if he developed a concussion, after all. And through all these, he had his eyes closed. It was annoyingly painful to even open one eye and peek at the mad, mad world; how else if two eyes were opened? He managed to glance at Seto Kaiba, thought he was hallucinating because the brunet could not be here, wherever he is. He must have gone crazy, and what did happen before he got into this hospital, anyway? He heard the imaginary Kaiba bark orders like he owned the hospital, which wasn't new to him anymore, and then felt his hand be grasped by two bigger, warmer ones. Yami dared not think they belonged to his former priest-slash-rival duelist. He'd go crazy and his head was really throbbing in pain, begging him to please, stop thinking and go back to unawareness.

So he did, conceding to weariness and the need to sleep the hurt off.

"_Seth…"_

It didn't give Kaiba much time to react. He really wasn't expecting Yami to utter a word anyway. There was an odd sense of feeling bad about the fact that it wasn't his name and there was also disbelief. He and Seth weren't the same, after all. Seto looked like the Egyptian priest and from what the former pharaoh had told him before; they even shared the Blue Eyes White Dragon. But it didn't make sense to be a reincarnation of someone when who he is now, wasn't shaped by what he was in another life. Had that been the case, just perhaps to spare him and Mokuba the pain, Seto would have preferred to _be _a reincarnation—

Or not.

Seto Kaiba was brought up needing to be the best. That was the only edge; that was the only advantage. Always be one step ahead. That was an advice he followed by heart. But that need wouldn't have surfaced if Gozaburo Kaiba didn't adopt them and planned on making him into a dead son-clone. The man was a bastard, sure; Kaiba hated his adoptive father with a passion. But without him, Seto wouldn't have been who he is, wouldn't have wanted what he's been achieving for years. And a past life—granted that he still liked Yami—with the King of Games' past self wasn't enough to mold him into his present self. It wasn't.

Right now, though…

"What are you doing here?"

The brunet frowned, having understood the question as a demand rather than an inquiry. What did he expect? That Yami would actually be pleased to see him? They really hadn't parted in good ways, come to think of it. He saw the stubborn crimson-eyed teen attempt to sit up and noticed the brief flicker of pain on the other's face as regretful. The doctor's orders had been clear—

"You're not supposed to be moving just yet," Kaiba quipped, blatantly ignoring Yami's question.

"I will do as I wish," the former monarch declared, crossing his arms like a petulant child and grimacing as he did so. He cursed his pride sometimes. He just didn't know _when _to listen!

Seto curtly shook his head, reached for the glass of water on the table beside the hospital bed and handed it to who used to be his rival. Three pills followed after that—a red capsule, a small orange tablet and a white and green tablet. The injured teen eyed the medicine warily. He apparently didn't like taking pills for anything, even if they were painkillers, Seto noted dryly.

"You've been advised to stay here for a week. That isn't difficult to understand, is it, Motou?" he asked, sitting on the chair. "Those are painkillers, if you haven't noticed. If I were you, I'd try them out."

Formerly pain-laced carmine eyes narrowed, expression turning into the 'Piss off, this is none of your business!' one that Kaiba was so used to seeing, then shut. Yami didn't want to deal with an exasperating Kaiba. Not now. He needed to find Ishizu and Malik. Why was he wasting his time here? Why was he even confined to this oddly claustrophobia-causing room? .

"I have to go. Why can't I leave?" Yami asked the brunet, knowing well enough not to try sitting up again. As much as he wanted to admit himself out, he also knew that his body was not so capable of walking farther than two steps. Somehow, he had answered his own question. Yami sighed.

Seto stared at him, "What part of injured do you not understand? You broke two ribs. Shouldn't that answer be enough?"

The former monarch glared at him, insulted enough that he didn't get the answer he was hoping to be hearing. Not that he expected Kaiba to side with him--lately, Seto Kaiba had become an irritating pain in the ass. He guessed he should be grateful enough (considering that the brunet was the one who 'saved' him from the thugs). But he didn't go to Egypt to be confined to a hospital.

"Look, I understand the concern and all but I really have to go!"

Seto huffed, "Yeah, right. You can't even sit up properly. I won't be there to catch you next time you decide to fall unconscious in the alley, just so you know."

Yami glared. "So what?"

"Whatever, Yami."

"Mr. Kaiba, this is a hospital. Please step out while I attend to the patient!" The doctor suddenly interfered. Okay, when did he arrive? Honestly, Seto didn't know. He probably didn't hear the doc enter.

"I'm sorry but if you haven't noticed, we're _talking_. Let us be, can't you?"

"Mr. Kaiba…" the man warned.

"Kaiba, get out!"

"Fine."

Not only was this frustrating; this was also quite bluntly, a fucking waste of his time. He complied anyway and stepped out.

Seto didn't like to think like this but it seemed to him that as a component of a not-so-seemingly significant cosmic joke, humans are bound to do the strangest things. With the help of so-called "external factors" such as Fate and Stupidity, they kill each other and think they're better than everyone else. If there were a god—or a bunch of gods and goddesses—He would probably be watching with a can of soda and a box of popcorn, satisfying his sick amusement. But that was blasphemous; and frankly, Kaiba wasn't in the mood to blaspheme any existing god right now.

Going back to human beings and their strange, strange ways...

If described accurately enough, it would be proper to say that Seto Kaiba was pissed off. His hand curled into a tight fist; inwardly, he was relieved that he wasn't holding any breakable object as he did so. He felt like punching the door, too—but he wasn't a violent person. The doctor had entered the room rather unexpectedly, planning on 'checking' the patient's condition while said patient was having a glaring match with his visitor. Of course, being a human being, Seto had the misfortune of speaking before he thinks and had quite characteristically demanded that he and Yami be left alone. He didn't like the way his ex-rival had gone silent on him and after he was close to knowing (finding a means to know, more like it) the reason behind the on-a-whim decision of flying to Egypt and getting hurt in the process.

The doctor's eyes narrowed by then, suspicion clouding his dark brown eyes. The CEO didn't like that at all.

"Mr. Kaiba, I'd like to remind you that Mr. Motou is a patient here and being recently injured, he needs every rest that he can get," the doctor started, fiddling with his pen as he spoke. Frankly, Kaiba was surprised he didn't attempt to buy this hospital—he would have lots of fun firing doctors like this.

"May I request that you step out and give me time to see if his condition had improved?"

Of course, despite it being a 'request', Seto had to comply. He didn't want to be forced to leave the premises for denying patients the right to be checked up by their doctors.

The brunet was sure Yami had sighed in relief after the doctor's request was made. (He had it in mind to deny the request; but he wasn't that cruel as people expected him to be.) He gave an unpromising 'hn' before heading for the door. It was a good thing that just outside Yami's room was a bench, with olive green paint that hasn't been re-done in years. It was functional, though; and that was all Seto needed as he waited.

He didn't like that under his supposed 'watch', Yami had gotten hurt. It made him responsible; it made him think that he made a mistake yet again. And somehow, Seto didn't understand why he should even feel tad guilty for allowing the former monarch to travel on his own. He didn't get the whole idea completely. Basically, they were rivals. They were just acquaintances (_who kissed once, _a voice inside his head pointed out).

In a practical sense, he shouldn't even be staying here. As far as priorities were concerned, this settled at the bottom of his list. Kaiba had to look after his brother, who was scheduled for a check-up with their doctor in seven days. He also needed to see to his company, which is currently run by Mokuba and Isono—no way would the brunet trust his Board of Directors; not after the previous BoD's attempt for a hostile take-over.

In short, Kaiba was a very busy man with a very harassed schedule. He apparently didn't have time to go on impromptu vacations to places he didn't have intentions of going to. Egypt was far from his mind; yet he was here, in a hospital and so many kilometers away from his top two priorities. Did he have to point out that while Mokuba and Isono were worrying about whether their decisions would drive the elder, far more experienced Kaiba mad or not, the 'elder, more experienced' Kaiba was currently watching over the person he vowed to re-claim his title from? (But that vow was made a long time ago, and Seto was over it, seriously.)

People do the strangest things and often for reasons unknown.

The CEO didn't like the set-up at all.

But when the door opened with a very frustrated doctor stepping out with hurried steps, Seto looked up in anticipation. Rather pessimistically, he was waiting for the aforementioned man to tell him that not only was Motou being an inconsiderate and stubborn patient, he was demanding to be allowed to leave right this moment. That would make sense to Seto, especially after he had just pushed the King of Games down and glared, intent on keeping the other from moving (per doctor's order).

"Want to give me an update, doc?" he questioned when it seemed that the doctor would pretend he didn't exist.

"Mr. Motou had agreed to stay for another day, but immediately after 24 hours, he will leave. Or so he says," the man conceded to the query. He didn't like being interrogated and he didn't like the way the brunet before him waltzed into the hospital as if he had every right to be there. But the issue here wasn't about Seto Kaiba; it was about Yami Motou, who so stubbornly denied to drink any of his painkillers. "He will be in some pain."

"There's a reason painkillers are invented."

"He made it clear that he didn't want to have any."

"Well, he's an idiot. You know better, don't you?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kaiba, but we respect the patient's wishes here. Excuse me," the doctor said before walking away, inwardly slightly glad that the nurse at the end of the hallway was looking for him.

Seto stood up and opened the door.

"I'm surprised you managed to survive this long without ever considering life's basic survival tips," Kaiba greeted as he went back into the room. Yami turned to him, a glare automatically set in place. The brunet merely smirked, "Seriously, Yami. Don't you ever wonder why _painkillers _are given to patients who had been beaten up?"

"I refuse to participate in your ridiculous games. Say what you will then leave me alone," the patient retorted. "Or, have you got nothing better to do? Be warned, I will not entertain you."

Seto shook his head and sat on the chair. He was looking at the other duelist when Yami's eyes narrowed at him and then drifted away. The former monarch didn't like the fact that while internally, the guilt overwhelmed him, he also felt the ire he knew Kaiba was sparking in him. Apparently, people like Seto Kaiba are mule-headed as hell… and there was no way around them when they are determined to ignore the most obvious of signs that Yami didn't want to be disturbed. _Not right now_. Yami's arms crossed and he fought down a wince; he was told he shouldn't be moving so much.

"Is the past really that important to you?"

It was safe to say that the question threw Yami aback. That was unexpected. And when things are unexpected, often, the answers have not been prepared. At the moment, the crimson-eyed teen didn't know what to answer or if he should even answer in the first place. But the question, which came out as a whisper, was sincere—as sincere Kaiba could be—and he felt that the other needed an answer for such genuine interest. The problem was, Yami, after witnessing fragments of his pharaoh life and Seth's attempt at death, didn't know the answer anymore.

Yes, perhaps?

Not anymore?

"Was the chess game against Gozaburo significant?"

Yami had no idea why he threw the question back. But that had always been their method; their way. They avoided questions and demanded answers, instead. Not that they receive answers anyway, but the purpose was served. And he could already imagine how peeved the brunet was for being the victim of the manipulation this time. It wasn't fair, really. Then again, word games between the two of them had never been the slightest fair. Who is to say that things have to change now?

"Yes, it was," Kaiba replied, and that was a surprise.

Because Kaiba never really answered; he was always avoiding it, too.

Because Kaiba didn't have to answer the question and now Yami felt cheated even if he was the one who cheated this time.

"Oh."

After an answer like that, how does one respond? Yami have no idea. He shouldn't have asked; yet, all he could do now was look away as Seto stared at him. Somehow, that confused the former monarch. Yami was reminded of how one stare led to a kiss that he was almost successfully forgetting about. It just didn't make sense—do stares lead to kisses? That was ridiculous, wasn't it?

"Thank you," the patient whispered, "for last night."

"You're welcome."

Then neither Kaiba nor Yami talked again. Quite frankly, the silence was disconcerting. They'd prefer their normal, inconclusive banters to this… standstill any day. But they didn't have any intention of changing the status quo.

The door opened suddenly and Kaiba grudgingly admitted it was a welcome interruption. He didn't like seeing Ishizu and Malik Ishtar in the same room as he was, though.

"My pharaoh," the two siblings greeted solemnly.

XXX

Ishizu was clad in a simple white dress, perfect for her figure; and Malik, in his accustomed vest and pants. Malik, for one, looked more serious now, Yami thought, and less barking mad. That was a relief. He was supposed to stay with them while he recovered his memories and they were expecting his arrival so many hours ago. They must have wondered why he hadn't knocked on their door last night—then again, judging by the gleam in the girl's eyes, Yami was willing to bet that they somehow know he would end up in the hospital.

"Ishizu, Malik," he greeted back.

"What are you two doing here?" was Kaiba's own greeting.

Ishizu frowned but was unfazed by the CEO's presence. She had important matters to discuss with the two duelists, after all. No matter how rude and foolishly proud the egoistical brunet would be, she needed them to know. The pharaoh didn't have to waste so much time mulling over the principle of spilled milk, so to speak.

"My pharaoh, how do you fare?" the former priestess asked congenially. Malik had drawn the curtains back to let the sunlight in as she spoke to them.

"I'm fine, Ishizu. No need to worry," and to convince them, Yami threw them a smile. As if that could make up for the bruises that all of them could see. He sensed Kaiba's frown first before seeing it. "I should be leaving tomorrow. Would I still be welcome in your house?"

"Of course, sire," Malik replied for both Ishtars.

"That's great! Thank you," Yami replied.

"Something's wrong," Seto pointed out, a grim serious expression on his face. He saw it in Ishizu's body language as she entered. If the entire trip was a waste of time, he didn't know how to react. There was hope that he'd be relieved, though; but that was a possibility that he wasn't considering.

"Ishizu?" the pharaoh asked.

"I'm afraid much of your past life cannot be recovered, Yami," Ishizu said now, using the pharaoh's present-day name. "All the records have been destroyed except for the tablet that I have shown you before."

"Destroyed?" The disappointment was clear. The loss was clearer.

Seto found that he couldn't look away. He felt the loss; all of this… maybe he understood what his ex-rival was feeling right now. Disappointment was a bitch. "Couldn't you have told him that before he left Japan?"

"That is not the only purpose that his trip serves," was the cryptic reply. What the hell?

"Mind telling him what he could get out of this trip?" Seto insisted.

"I can only assist him into remembering one event," the priestess answered, looking at him gravely. "However, you need to be there when Yami decides to have it."

Yami watched the exchange.

_Destroyed… all the records… gone…_

"Okay, Ishizu," he conceded. It was the last thing he could get anyway. _At least _he had something, right? "What should I do?"

"How desperate. Motou, do you even need it?" Kaiba insulted. This was becoming repetitive. And it was obvious the two Egyptians were leading the King of Games in circles. That was annoying.

"Yes, Kaiba. I do."

"Hn."

"You need to be there, Kaiba," Malik said. "Both of you have to be there."

The CEO shook his head. "I refuse to waste my time on some hullabaloo. So, no—"

"Please, Kaiba, just be there?" Yami interrupted. He wanted to get over it already and the sooner he has that last flashback, he could begin pretending he didn't have to worry about it anymore. As soon as he made his request, they started another staring match, cerulean eyes meeting crimson ones head-on. Then, Seto blew a sigh and conceded with a "Fine. But you owe me, Yami."

"Ishizu, we'll be there tomorrow."

The Ishtars nodded before bowing and taking their leave. Yami didn't mind that it was a short visit. He wasn't expecting any, in the first place. Besides, he wanted to be alone for a while. Seto wouldn't obviously give him his solitude. Kaiba could really be such a—

"Getting one piece of the puzzle wouldn't solve everything, Yami. You know what? You really have to remember that people of this era don't give a _damn _about who you were before. Yugi doesn't and I don't, so why can't you just move on?"

Yami had no reply for that. He watched Seto shake his head before heading out.

"I need to change clothes. See you tomorrow."

And then, Yami was alone.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Okay, things are hell-ish to me right now. Can't elaborate more on that, but I can't keep this story hanging especially when it's bad enough I haven't updated for a while. I'll try to make this as interesting as I could but please don't hate me when it falls short. Also, I will be changing my writing style. I hope no one minds. **

**An important announcement regarding "In Explanation" is posted on my page. To those who follow that story, kindly visit and read the announcement. I apologize in advance. **

**I'd really like to know what you think. Drop a review, please? **

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 9: Interlude **

It starts with goodbye, a heartfelt promise torn from lips turning blue. The light fades slowly, once bright red eyes dulling. Once, he was regarded as one of the smartest pharaohs in his line, thinks always with a clear head, wise and patient. But his mind is hazy now, a puddle of mess and pain and clouds. It is nothing but doubt and hurt, of betrayal and sorrow. Of grief. And the once great pharaoh continued to cease living.

Seth watches, silent and stoic as always. As he was trained. There is blood on his ceremonial robes, vivid red painted across his royal blue clothes. Blood spatters. The fact that he is as bloodied as a murderer in the midst of the actual crime does not register. What registers is, _goodbye, remember your promise. _What he remembers is a bittersweet kiss, stolen before the break of dawn when his cousin woke up and dragged him back into his chambers to say farewell 'properly'. There were tears, wishes to back out. Declarations of _I can't do it_.

Of _I can't kill you, don't expect me to_.

Then there is a sigh, understanding and sympathy, loss and grief all thrown in the mix. Atemu had pulled him close, head resting on the nape of Seth's neck. Words had not been important, were not important. They knew. They never wanted to part. But they had to. And it was a responsibility Seth couldn't handle to bear.

_Promise me_.

Seth stills and watches as the grip on his shoulder loosens; Atemu gasps his last breath. Atemu's eyes close one final time, never to open again. It is a heartbreaking thought, absolutely devastating. His hands shake, showing for once just how hard it is to kill the one person you've learned to love. The dagger is clenched tightly in his right fist, though; the blade biting his skin and letting him bleed. Soon, droplets of his own blood fall on the ground and mix with Atemu's. It doesn't matter. They've always been together; they would _always _be together. Promises and traditions be damned.

"Atemu…" he whispers brokenly, admitting to himself that he would never be fixed. That he would refuse to be fixed. He is tempted to fall on his knees, shout the pain off his lungs because he just couldn't breathe. His chest is tight; it hurts. It hurts more than any kind of pain he'd experienced. Even worse than the pain he felt when he watched Atemu look at him, betrayed and oh so lost. As he watched those wonderful crimson eyes lose their gleam just as he informed his cousin that _last night was a mistake, you best forget about it_.

He thought he'd never be so hurt. He is wrong.

As wrong as his father who thought he was too hungry for power to kill Atemu.

Then again, at the end of the day, Atemu is still dead, isn't he?

Seth shudders and winces, feeling the sting of the wound from the dagger. He looks down again, realizes for real that:

Atemu. Is. Dead.

Oh, Ra.

"High Priest Seth—"

It is Isis who speaks first, her voice choking with tears wanting to be cried out. But she is trained to be stoic, as well. However, Isis is Atemu's closest ally aside from Mahado and Seth. Isis is the only person in this room that Seth doesn't feel like hating.

"I wish to be alone."

His words become law now, even if he isn't pharaoh yet. Yet. But it is more out of respect, he guesses. After all, he just lost his cousin, hasn't he? _Correction_. He just _killed _his cousin. Of course they knew better than to spite him.

Seth starts talking as soon as the last palace guard leaves. He struggles, tries to find his voice and realizes all he can do is cry. And he thought crying could help. To get the pressure off his chest. But as always, he is wrong because the pain doesn't go away. It worsens, grows bigger and swallows him whole. Atemu is dead. Atemu is _killed_. Atemu is gone. No more silly banter and meaningless pranks; no more arguments and making up; no more smiles and indignant pouts. No more sulking; no more _Atemu_.

"Ra, Atemu," he mutters and clutches to Atemu's body , ignores the wetness of blood on his clothes. They're just clothes.

"I can't," he admits because in all honesty, he really couldn't. How can he expect Seth to go on like this? With the knowledge that he killed the only person he loved because it was the _right thing _to do? The right thing shouldn't hurt. It's not supposed to! Aren't the good rewarded? Aren't they?!

But of course, he doesn't voice them out. Thinks maybe Atemu will hear and be disappointed in him. He doesn't want that, after all that Atemu's given, after all that he's been willing to give to Seth. Seth is weak, though. Has always been, even when he became the youngest High Priest. He's always second to Atemu back then, who was nice and sincere with his affections for the people. When he headed the palace guards under Atemu's rule, he was weak. Watching but not seeing that Atemu is driving himself to self-destruction, working and fretting too much even when he's not supposed to.

And he's supposed to know, as Atemu's cousin. As the pharaoh's High Priest.

When Seto opens his eyes and notices the faint burn of the sun on his back, he groans and realizes he's over slept. It's way too bright and what time is it, damn it? There are seven missed calls on his phone, knows exactly who they are from and chooses to ignore it when the phone rings again. It's been days since his last visit to Yami. Since he bailed out, that is. Made Yami believe that he'd be there to help him recover his memories and what-not. He feels guilty. But it's for the better. Isn't it?

As his phone rings again, Seto is already in the bathroom taking a cold shower. Best way to wake up.

XXX

An hour later, there is a knock on a door. Way too hurried to come from one of the hotel staff, so Seto chooses to ignore it for a while. He sips on his coffee, knows that the beverage is better drank before 9 a.m. but he does so anyway. It is when the knock, light, hurried taps that they are, resort to angry, still not much of a pounding knocks that the brunet gives up with the pretenses and heads to the door.

Seldom does Seto Kaiba get surprised. He gasps, though, upon seeing a scowling Yami waiting outside his room. Surprise turns to irritation as he yanks the door open.

"Shouldn't you be in the hospital?"

"What the hell was that?" Yami greeted, lips pursed in righteous anger.

Seto frowns. "I don't know what you're talking about," he answers and closes the door. He senses first before he actually feels being turned to face the former pharaoh, and he should be scared or angry as well. But he isn't. Just tired, he guesses.

"Yes, you do!"

"Look, what do you want from me? You want to talk to Yugi? Here's my phone," the CEO offers but winces unconsciously when he gets a glare instead. Before he knows it, Yami has slammed him to the closed door, anger clearly radiating. There is a brief glaring match between them, Seto infuriated at his former rival's action and Yami, irritated because well… Seto does try to make it a habit to annoy him in the most surprising of ways.

He hears Yami sigh and the match ends there, a stalemate that neither has comment on.

"You told me you'd be there. Why didn't you go?" Yami asks softly, his hands withdrawing and releasing the brunet from his grip. His eyes are downcast, defeated. It makes Seto feel guiltier than usual. What does he answer, anyway? That he was suffering from incessant nightmares about his supposed past life and has actually been dreaming about the former pharaoh? _Right_. Because the outcome of this conversation would actually benefit him. Yeah, right.

"Well?"

Seto scowls and pushes himself away from the door, walks past the tri-haired ex-duelist. He heads for his forgotten cup of coffee, takes it to the sink and throws the liquid away. To stall time, his mind strategically advises. To hide, an unnamed part of him suggests.

"Damn it, was that some joke to you? It meant something to me, Kaiba!"

"I know, okay? I fucking _know_."

"Then why didn't you go? You said you would. That sounds like a promise to me," Yami replies. He's walking towards the brunet now, determination in his body language. There's still the righteous anger, and the confusion in his eyes, of course. But it's the same Yami he fights with in duels. Seto stiffens and takes a step back, his back meeting the edge of the counter. What the heck?

_Promise me._

_Be pharaoh. Take my place._

No.

"Stop it," Seto orders tightly. He catches Yami's wrist just as the other tries to reach for him. He pulls Yami nearer, makes sure there is little space between them and forces him to meet his gaze. "I have my reasons. And you can't demand those reasons from me."

_I can't. _

_You don't expect me to kill you, do you?_

Atemu.

"The least you can do is explain to me why you stood me up! I was expecting you. You told me—"

"Cut it out, Atemu!"

The pause is stifling. Like dead air, like a speaker stopping halfway in his speech and realizing that he has forgotten what he's supposed to say. Like tension and the uncomfortable awkwardness that goes with it. They're staring at each other now, Seto's blue eyes wide with horror and Atemu's reflecting surprise and amazement.

Altogether, it's a sardonically amusing sigh.

Which doesn't explain why Seto decides to break the silence and pull Yami for a kiss, all force and hushed pleas to _don't bring it up, please_. He deepens it when Yami's arms wound around his neck and his own rest on the former monarch's hips, dragging him closer still.

_His jaw hurts. Seth glares just as Mahado offers a hand. Despite rejecting it, Mahado pulls him up anyway. Probably compensating for the fact that he punched the brunet. What did Seth ever do anyway? _

"_Your treatment of the pharaoh shows how little you care for him," Mahado points out, still angry. Still overprotective. _

"_You don't know what you're talking about."_

"_Yes, I do. And I know what you're doing, High Priest Seth. Is this one of your mind games? If it is, you better stop it now. He doesn't deserve this." _

"_What Atemu does and who he is in a relationship with is not your business, _Mahado_."_

"_You're hurting him! You ignore him. You deliberately insult and question his abilities. What in Ra's name is wrong with you?"_

_Seth scowls, a permanent expression of displease on his face. He ignores the sting of his bruised jaw and walks away. "This conversation is over." _

Seto pulls away, eyes wider. Yami's eyes are glazed, as if his concentration isn't going to return any minute now. As if logic escapes him.

"This is wrong."

It's then that Yami snaps out of his 'reverie' and looks at Seto, wonders silently and doesn't ask a question. Thankfully. Seto sighs and grabs his keys.

"I'm sorry."

And this time, it's he who leaves Yami behind.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I've been writing this for days now since I can't just sit down and write it in one go. I was in the hospital with my grandfather for days, then I had to fix some things for college. But anyway, with two weeks left till classes begin, I'm not going to say I'm **_**officially **_**back. I will be writing again, is what I'm trying to say. There are no assurances when I get to update, sadly. **

**Lastly, I think I won't be writing 7-page-ish chapters. For one thing, it's very difficult to copyread. Another, I tend to be all think and no talk when that happens. I hope no one has a problem with that! **

**Review. I'd really love to know what you think of this. **

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 10: Two Directions **

It's seeing the Dark Magician materialize before him that makes him realize that he's dreaming. Logic tells him that anything appearing out of nowhere is realistically impossible. But the thing is, he's a living former Egyptian pharaoh who has sent people to the Shadow Realm, which isn't meant to exist either. He's supposed to be dead, too, and quite clearly, he isn't. So when Yami dreams of his favorite, most trusted Monster (this may not be the best term, he thinks), he knows in an instant that this isn't an ordinary, forgettable creation of his hyperactive imagination. No way can he discard this as one of those crazy dreams people normally have. The Dark Magician hasn't spoken, is why. It makes sense that if he were dreaming rather normally, his favorite would have said something now.

But the Dark Magician remains quiet. Stoic. Protective as always. It isn't new. It has never spoken, not even when Yami was trapped in the Millennium Puzzle. It does incline its head to the side, gesturing for Yami to look at something, and when Yami follows the direction he sees Seth and Seto standing beside each other. He can't help it; he mutters an "Oh my God" like he can't believe what he's seeing, then backs away. Freaks out.

As he is about to flee, he is grabbed back, a hand on his arm keeping him from running away. The Dark Magician has disappeared. Left him to his own devices. He's face-to-face with Seto and Yami is terribly confused. Dreams can be weird and totally outrageous, he knows. They don't even have to make the slightest sense. But Yami hasn't had a dream where Kaiba is _actually _in the same plane with his ancient counterpart. So now Yami wonders. What the hell can this possibly mean?

"Don't go," Seto nearly pleads. There's a flash of powerless determination on the brunet's face that Yami finds difficult to ignore. So he doesn't. Ignore; go. But he's terrified of something he cannot explain. He flinches when Seth takes a step towards them, previously playing as a voiceless spectator in the background. Yami doesn't react when Seto gets closer, though. And it confuses him, his eyes wide with thoughts racing at the back of his mind.

Maybe it's his subconscious' way of fucking him up and showing its blatant disapproval of Yami's spontaneous trip back to memory lane. Maybe he just unconsciously trusts Seto more, after all. More than he trusts Seth, he means. Which sounds unlikely, but it's what's being shown before his eyes. Trusts Seto more to understand; to not shield him from what he's missing out no matter how much it may hurt him in the end. Seth has always been protective of him. That Yami knows.

This doesn't mean Seth's any different, though. Seth will always be intense; will always be as loyal. He and Seto are the same person in principle. They just happen to exist in two different planes and grow up with two different histories. And there's no way of knowing who has the better life, who is better. Then again, since when has this been a competition between them both? Somehow this frustrates Yami even more. He glares at the CEO.

"Let me go."

Real Seto won't. Not until he gets to say whatever he has in mind. Until Yami submits and listens. Dream Seto doesn't, either. It's relieving to an extent: the knowledge that Seto will always be the same no matter what realm he may be in. In fact, the brunet's grip tightens, as if expecting Yami to slip from him like he usually does. They glare at each other; returning to the seemingly innate ability to despise the other and yet be as thankful. What Yami is thankful for right now escapes him. Then again, what he's currently despising is lost to him as well.

"Let me go," he warns again. But of course Seto is unfazed. Yami sighs. Says 'alright' and waits for the speech he knows, he _just knows _Seto made. Seto grins surprisingly. Not a smirk, not a sneer; not any of the cocky grins Yami is familiar with. This one is new. A genuine boyish grin that somehow cushions the blow to Yami's ego when he submitted and willingly waited to listen. Funny, he's never seen Seto grin that way before.

Seto releases him immediately and takes a step back, all without saying a word. He's beside Seth and the ground is crumbling underneath. When the ground falls under Seth and Seto, Yami is distracted by the sight of them both staring at him. It's too much of a surprise that keeps Yami paralyzed, as well, when it happens. How fast they disappear from his eyesight. Neither brunets cry for help and upon reaching them—when finally, _finally _Yami shakes himself from his stupor—Yami freezes.

He stares at them both, hands trembling, eyes wide with panic and realization. Everything else has frozen, kept that way. The chaos, the calm that surrounds it. The surreal feeling of what just happened. They haven't spoken, and Yami hasn't moved yet. It's painful to move; it's painful to think. And he can't move on from what he's thinking.

The thought makes him sick.

When the ground crumbled and dragged Seto and Seth with it, the message it sent was clear.

As much as Yami wants to save them both, he can only save one.

XXX

That's when he wakes up. A hitch of breath. As if he's drowning with too much air. Like he's being smothered.

Yami blinks. Heart racing. He takes a quick look around him and relaxes when the darkness of his room greets him back. No sand, no priest, no CEO.

He falls back and lies down on the bed. Stares at the ceiling, mind wandering. He hasn't forgotten Seto's kiss. Not even Seto's slip up. Seto remembers 'Atemu'. Somehow has glimpses of what and who they were in the past. From the looks of it, he seems affected as well. But the thing is, Yami doesn't want to think about him. Seto, that is. Doesn't want to think about how familiar it was—Seto closing the distance, pulling him in. Claiming as if owning. Yami really doesn't want to. But he can't stop thinking.

The dream is fresh in mind; doesn't go as he wants it to. Wishes it to.

The quiet resignation Seth and Seto had as the ground vanished below them, Yami sees again. That small, most likely quenched hope that Yami will save them. Yami failed to save them, though. The guilt knocks Yami's breath away. He pants in the middle of the darkness of his room. Breathless as he remembers being so close to both and watching them fall. Watching, not stopping. _Just watching… _

_Stop thinking about it! _

Seto and Seth are two different individuals. Yami mulls over it. Discovers the meaning.

Seth. The way Yami flinched. The way he trusted him less. _Seth_.

What little Yami can remember isn't enough to sentence his priest to trusting him less, but Seth is the past. Belongs to his past. Yami doesn't, _cannot _recover his past anymore. He gave that up when he wanted to live. The moment the doors sealed close and the temple started to collapse; the moment Jonouchi and Yugi dragged him out while he watched the ancient structure collapse into ruins was the moment Yami decided he had no need for Egypt and what happened then. The moment he saw Seth one last time and gave him up, left Egypt to return to the present. That's when he sealed his fate, for lack of better term. It ended there, didn't it?

All those memories he keeps having now with Seth?

Maybe he is meant to have only this. Maybe he's not supposed to know everything.

"_I don't understand—"_

"_That's the problem, _cousin_. You don't understand anything at all… you pretend to, I give you that, but you're not as experienced as you thought yourself to be," Seth chided. Atemu felt the other shake his head. _

"_Why?" Atemu asked. The glint in Seth's eyes darkened._

"_Because."_

"_You said you would always side by me," Atemu responded, "No matter what."_

"_I'm here _**by your side**_**,**__ aren't I? I'm a man of my word, I don't break my promises. Surely you, of all people, would know that." _

"_And yet, you betray me. Why, Seth?" _

Someone had hired an assassin to kill him then. Yami knows now. Knows the assassin planned to get to the pharaoh through Seth, and Seth had known first. Leaving and denouncing ties with the kingdom to create a diversion. Risking himself and everything he can possibly have because _Atemu _was in danger and no one else knew. Yami had never known the priest to be as reckless. Seth was always best in calculating things and strategizing. Mahado, after all, was always jealous of him because of that. As much as Yami is grateful that Seth saved him repeatedly in the past, Yami doesn't want to find out that someone is willing to throw everything away because of him.

It makes sense now: the anger he feels whenever someone tries to protect him. Cover his eyes, wrap him in an embrace. He isn't a child. Thing is, Seth had always treated him like he was vulnerable. _Fragile_, like he's going to break. And Yami doesn't want that. He doesn't need to regain his memories to know for a fact that Seth has always been like that to him. Yami _is _grateful of all the things Seth had done for him. If his cousin were here at this moment, Yami plans to thank him profusely. But that's the only thing he can ever give. Thanks. _It's glad to see you once more, Seth_. Nothing else.

Somewhere between dying and being trapped in the Millennium Puzzle, between looking for his memories and dealing with Seto's insistence to stalk him, Yami had forgotten vital things about Seth. And it makes him worry because he knows Seto. Status quo is, he knows more about Seto than he can ever know about Seth.

It's a worrying issue. He doesn't know why.

"_You insist on looking at the past, but what use is it if you don't live for the future?"_

"_You don't understand."_

"_Try me."_

When Yami hears a knock on the door, he stays still. Glances at the clock and realizes it's 3 o'clock in the morning. He's supposed to be fast asleep. Whoever is knocking on his door apparently doesn't understand the meaning of _people sleeping. _The knocks get louder, more insistent. Somehow Yami knows who the person is, and he dreads opening the door.

"Yami!"

It doesn't help that Seto's sure that Yami's home. Yami sighs and gets up, the hem of his pajamas reaching the floor. Yugi's guess wasn't right when he bought them for the former monarch. It's been four days of unanswered phonecalls and blatant ignoring. For four days, Yami wanted to talk. Ask what's going on, ask _how and why _Seto knows the pharaoh's name. A part of Yami wants it that way, where Seto acknowledges the existence of a shared history with Yami. Where Egypt and the chaos that nearly destroyed it were real. But when Seto kissed him four days ago, pulled him close and refused to let him go, Seto had called him 'Atemu' before that. Was obviously referring to _Atemu _and not Yami.

He's not Atemu. He stopped being Atemu a long time ago. Then suddenly Seto calls him that? He doesn't get it. Doesn't get why this is such a big deal right now when a few months back, he would have been gladdened if Seto starts remembering the past.

"Yami, open the door, damn it!"

It's been four days since he last saw Seto. When he opens the door, the sight that greets him stops him from barking.

Seto looks… like hell.

There are bags under his red-rimmed eyes. As if he hasn't gotten enough sleep in days. _As if he hasn't slept in days_. It's unsettling, but the way Seto almost leans on the doorpane is even more unsettling. Seto's exhausted and Yami sees it. Instantly, he widely opens the door. In his head, he thinks, _What in the world have you done to yourself, Kaiba? _

But Kaiba stops him when he's about to turn around. Grips his wrist like a rope for a drowning man. The grip is tight and it reminds Yami of his dream. The way Seto refused to let him walk away then. The moment he and Seth fall as Yami can only watch. _Can only save one._ He's breathing heavily. He knows it in the way the air is surprisingly tight and there's not enough oxygen that gets into his lungs. He's slightly leaning on Seto now and Seto lets him before forcing him back, his hands on each of Yami's arms.

The look that Seto sends him gives him shivers. It's intense as always. But it's different.

"We," Seto tries. Stops. He's uncertain of something, but he continues anyway as he fixes his gaze on Yami.

"We need to talk about something."

Yami can only nod as he leads the brunet to the living room.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I said I'd be having short chapters from this chapter onward, right? Apparently, I lied. I didn't even know until earlier. So because my hand is kinda sore with all the writing I've been doing since 3 p.m. (Time check: 2:03 a.m.), I'd apologize first for every typo that you'll come across. This was a fun chapter to write, despite the agony of bearing with my hand after that. Oh, and right. Last two chapters left! **

**Funny how one year later, I still haven't finished this story yet. How productive. ::rolls eyes:: About this chapter—this may have just increased the rating of my story. But it's up to you to decide. Also, you may or may not despise me after this. Long-ish chapter, flashbacks galore. Be warned.**

**Also, thank you, barrie18, for all the insights. (I figured I'd change something a bit, though. I hope you'll still like it despite that.) They've, as you already know, really helpled. Anyone is welcome to give their own insights, y'know. **

**Tell me what you think? Reviews would be nice. **

* * *

**Chapter 11: See Through **

"I get it now."

Seto's voice is soft and wistful, as if he is revealing a secret that he's not supposed to reveal. Yami stands near the couch, hands holding a tray of freshly brewed coffee and biscuits. Seto knows Yami enough to know that he's listening. Waiting, not pushing. He looks up and meets the former pharaoh's gaze.

Yami doesn't say, "Get what?" but his body language screams it. The anticipation is coursing through his veins, making him fidgety. Quiet. Seto seems to have stopped talking; resting his head on the pillows as he leans back on the couch. Yami hasn't even started thinking about Seto's physical state. Has decided to put it off until the CEO has left. Doesn't want to start thinking about it when it reminds him too much of the dream. And Seto's just as close now that it takes a great amount of self-control for Yami to stay still and not touch the brunet. To make sure Kaiba really _is _here, albeit worse for wear, and not in an abyss he and Seth had fallen into. Yami remembers the fall and shudders.

Seto notices and looks at him, fascinated by how the moonlight bathes Yami with an ethereal glow. The window isn't that far from them, and he sees how it casts a halo on the standing figure. But it's too dark to see Yami's face. Thing is, though, familiarity teaches him a lot of things. Teaches him that the evident slump of Yami's shoulders isn't a sign of weariness, or exhaustion. Yami is _upset_. The antsy behavior, the slight trembling of his calloused hands tell Seto that the former monarch is thinking about Egypt. And the way he refuses to meet Seto's gaze? It tells Seto that it's about him.

"You," Yami starts, voice raspy. "You came here to talk. So talk."

Seto's been waiting for this—Yami coming closer, taking the space beside him. They're nearer than they ever were and it grants him access to the emotions he's certain to find. Impatience, he gets. Worry, confusion, wariness. He sees longing and grief. Regret. All flashing thousands of miles per second in Yami's eyes.

"What's wrong?" He instinctively asks. In one moment, he witnesses Yami shut off like a huge blackout, killing the power of an entire city. Yami's face is suddenly blank. Evasive.

"What do you want to talk about?" Yami asks again, and this time the brunet glances at the window. Grudgingly, he answers: "Seth."

When he hears Yami's sharp intake of breath he shakes his head and rests his palms on his knees to steady himself. He doesn't like admitting things that he so badly wants to disprove. Blow to the ego and what-not. But the thing is, there's only so much Egypt that he can take. And he needs someone to tell him what the _fuck _is going on.

"He fell first," Seto begins.

"What?"

Seto meets his eyes and suddenly their game of stalling and half-truth begin to end. Yami isn't used to Seto being overwhelmingly open, the effect of knowing what he's about to tell Yami visible in his normally masked azure eyes. He cannot stop being wary, though. Fears he already knows what Seto has to say only to realize it's no help at all. The brunet sighs heavily and it's so _human_, so unlike Seto that Yami's chest constricts painfully at witnessing it. Embarrassed to see the brunet in a vulnerable state, in a _private _moment. But said brunet doesn't notice. Has begun to speak.

"He was away for three years," Seto tells, his voice just above a whisper. "Sent to a neighboring kingdom to learn their ways…."

_The sun is shining brighter, hotter than the last time Seth was here. Egypt has undergone and experienced several changes, Shadi wrote to him two moons back. Seth witnesses it in the way the people act bolder, less cautious and more cautious as his steed struts down the road to the palace. Due east he sees the pool that he threw Atemu into when they were younger. They had been arguing with each other, a debate over whose steed was faster, and he had lost his patience. As simple as that they went home drenched and ready to face their fathers' ire. That was before Mahado and all the other priests were introduced to them. Seth smiles at the memory, ignoring the stares he is receiving. _

_When the guards at the vanguard of the palace recognize him, calls are made and the gates, opened. Seth nearly pulled the reins to his horse to a stop as he stares ahead. Dumbfounded. Exhilarated. _

_It looks different. Marvelous in its pristine structure. There are more fountains and wider gardens. From the lush green sight of the gardens that greets him, Seto knows they are well taken cared of. But at the same time, he wonders whose decision this is. Knows this cannot possibly be his uncle's. The Pharaoh had never spent time on infrastructure and aesthetics, prioritizing internal and foreign affairs. (Hence, Seth's spur of the moment, secret 3-year trip, he thinks wryly.) _

"_Admiring our haven, aren't you?" It is Shadi's amused voice. Seth comes down from his horse, greeting the other priest with a distinctive eyeroll._

"_How are things?" Seth queries, eyes wandering back to the gardens. Shadi sighs and looks at the palace for a moment. As if torn between telling the truth and lying outright. Of course Seth notices. "Well? The place is standing so I doubt any of you has devised a plan to blow it up." _

_Shadi visibly flinches. _

_Seth frowns. But he doesn't get to ask because they've already reached the main hall. He shakes his head, deciding to question things later, and walks ahead. Heads to the throne room and to inform his uncle of a pharaoh what he has learned. Until he hears laughter coming from the east wing. Familiar peals of laughter, although wrung out by the cursing fellow he is accompanied with. Seth shakes his head in exasperation, following the sound. Three years pass and obviously Atemu has not changed. At that he walks in, smiling smugly._

"_Three years and still playing, brat?" He mocks. Because that's how he and Atemu had parted. Had parted as. Rival cousins, who used to be so close, antagonizing each other. The insult he's about to throw gets lodged in his throat as he realizes what's happening. Seth's eyes widen. _

_Mahado has grown taller, not as tall as Seth but still, a change. But that isn't what's caught Seth's attention. He gapes as Mahado is straddling a smaller, slender figure. The other priest has hands held in his grip. Upon seeing Seth, Mahado releases his 'prisoner' and stands. Flustered. _

"_Seth!" Mahado cries out. The shock evident on his face. That catches the attention of the other man, standing slower than Mahado. Disbelieving until he meets Seth's gaze. Atemu gasps and Seth stares. Speechless._

_Atemu… is stunning, for lack of better term. He's still shorter than Seth but he has grown; lithe body framed by muscles. Atemu's hair is wilder, the gold yellow streaks more visible and bangs falling to the sides of his face. Seth guesses Mahado had been tickling his cousin from the way Atemu still looks disheveled and breathless. He looks flushed, cheeks burning up and tears of laughter pooling at the edge of his eyes. Atemu looks ravishing. Innocent. _

_Has he always been this exquisite? _

"_Dear Ra…" Seth mutters at the realization. The trance is broken and Atemu opens his mouth for a greeting. Seth speaks first, though; discards Atemu's attention away. "We shall talk later. After I have spoken to the Pharaoh." _

_And it hits him, that pang of guilt when Atemu pales, face falling as he nods. Acquisces to Seth's decision. Did something happen between father and son, Seth wonders? Before Seth can utter a word, Atemu turns and walks away, a hurt expression on his face. The brunet doesn't know why but he feels like that time when he shouted at his dying mother for coddling him too much only to regret it as his mother dies that night. The guilt almost ate him then. This one with Atemu feels no different._

_Later that day, Seth is summoned by the Pharaoh, only to find the throne occupied by Atemu. He has gone back to masking his emotions, Seth sees, and all he wants to do is take the pain his cousin is obviously hiding. Same pain _he _has caused. It's a vow. He doesn't want grief and pain to mar Atemu's face ever again._

"What do you want me to do, Kaiba?" Yami asks the moment Seto finishes. "I cannot give you answers which I do not have."

Seto nods. "I've already talked to Ishizu. We must be in the temple by noon tomorrow."

_What_? Yami stares. _Come gain?_

Seto sighs tiredly then, casts the former monarch a glance. "I'd get some sleep if I were you. I was told that it wouldn't be a smooth trip back to memory lane."

Confessing the story of how an Egyptian High Priest falls for his Pharaoh isn't as easy as it's thought to be. It left Seto feeling raw.

"Fine," Yami grits out and heads back to the bedroom. In an instant, Seto relaxes. But Yami comes back a few minutes later, bringing a pillow and a blanket for the CEO. Seto takes them without question as Yami nods and starts to walk away.

"Seto?" It's the first time Yami calls him with his first name.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." _For telling me_.

Seto nods and watches Yami enter his room. He lies down and stares at the ceiling. He doesn't get any sleep after that.

XXX

The temple looks far from how Seto has envisioned it to be. It's been quite a time since they were here, after all, and last time he checked, the temple was in ruins. Now it stands as if untouched by time. It feels strange somehow to see it the way it was before weather and time eroded it. He glances at Yami and thinks either the other man knows this has happened or is simply unbothered by it.

"Come on," he says and leads the way inside, his mind apparently remembering the right pathway from the last time they were here, by instinct. When Yami falls into step beside him, he stops at the sight on the wall near his ex-rival.

This wasn't in the temple before—Atemu on an altar of some sort, eyes fixed on the sky while Seth's raised dagger is directed at him. Where did this come from? Does this mean Seth actually killed Atemu?

"Atemu needed to die by Seth's hands. That was the sacrifice the Sealing Ceremony warranted," Yami's soft voice breaks through Seto's reveries. He's looking at the wall, too; eyes lost in some distant place where neither reality nor fantasy can touch him. Looks more to Seto like he's back in Ancient Egypt, watching everything through his own perspective. When Yami's explanation sinks in, Seto shifts his gaze back to the former pharaoh. (Funny how Yami referred to himself—or his past self, whichever—Atemu when he and Atemu are the same person.)

Wait.

"I thought he and Seth were—"

"Lovers?" Yami continues bitterly, meeting Seto's gaze for the first time and refusing to let the uncertainty reveal itself before the brunet. "_They were_. But the thing is, I've always known Atemu's too much of a martyr to even wait for them to find an alternative solution."

It sounds so bitter. So _hurt_. And really, with that confession, how in the world can Seto even respond properly?

"Come on," the brunet answers instead. Indicates that it's time to move on and so he does. Starts walking to the hearth, where everything ended for Atemu and everything began for Yami.

It's a couple of steps later when he notices that Yami isn't following him. He turns around and catches the wistful look on the other man's face. Seo knows where that look is focused on and he's suddenly angry. The emotion bubbling in him makes him wan to smash the slab. Because the thing is, this is unfair. _Downright unfair._ Seth killed him. Hadn't tried enough to stop Atemu when he wanted to die.

If you love someone, you just don't let him die.

There's always been a wall between him and Yami. They understand each other but underneath it all, Seto can't cross the wall and make Yami see that whatever their future holds doesn't involve their past. That Seto simply isn't Seth, and he never wants to be. But this… Seto's never going to get what he wants, will he?

"The wall's not going anywhere. Let's go," he breaks in.

"Why do you want to know so much?" Yami quietly asks; his gaze turned to Seto, waiting for a response.

"What?" There's something in Yami's voice that Seto cannot identify. Hesitance? Uncertainty?

"You draem of Seth and his possible feelings for Atemu and instead of discarding them like you usually do, you seek me for answers. Why is that? What changed, Kaiba?" Yami questions, walks towards him. A curious gleam in his narrowed red eyes.

"Is it a crime to inquire, Yami?" Is it wrong to prove that he and Seth are different, Seto doesn't say. He matches Yami's gaze with his own. Unyielding. Cold. Pushing Yami away so he doesn't figure out the brunet's real intentions. So he won't make Seto reveal his cards before the game has even begun.

Yami chuckles sardonically, eyes warming afterwards. He raises an eyebrow at his former rival and at that, the stalement ends. "You can't blame me for being suspicious," he teases almost playfully and the change surprises Seto.

"People change" the CEO offers offhandedly and starts to walk again. "They're always changing."

It's silence that greets him this time. He even turns around to heck if the former pharaoh is looking at the stone slab again. He isn't but he's looking at Seto like he just figured out something. And then Seto realizes what he has said and he freezes visibly. They stay that way—eyes wide and locked at each other, still. When Yami finally nods, a slow movement of his head, Seto can breathe again. He lets Yami take the lead this time; lets him walk ahead as he stays behind to look at the embedded sculpture of the High Priest.

"We look so alike," he says in bewilderment, his fingers absentmindedly following the outline of the dagger and the direction it leads to—Atemu. He stares at the pharaoh, knows that used to be Yami. "But you're not Yami. And I'm not Seth. Never was."

Because he can believe that once upon a time someone who coincidentally looked like him fell in love with Yami. He can _never _believe that what he feels for Yami_ now _is the byproduct of some tragedy. This is real and this is what he honestly feels. No one is making him react this strongly.

"Kaiba?" the former pharaoh calls impatiently, worriedly.

"Don't get a heart attack. I'm on my way. Mokuba called," he lies.

"Whatever."

When he gets there, Ishizu and Malik are already waiting. Yami sits on the altar that Seto realizes is the same altar on the sculpture. Malik hands him a dagger crowned with the brightest rubies he has ever seen. He looks up and the worry must have shown on his face because Ishizu shook her head.

"We need your and Yami's blood in the goblet to star this ritual" Ishizu explains and reveals a golden cup decorated like the dagger.

What follows is a simple step-by-step procedure. Seto sees Yami use his own dagger to slice through the flesh of his arm. The blood drips onto the goblet and Yami sways a little. He watches Malik guide Yami to lie on the altar, let him rest. Worried, Seto walks towards the former pharaoh and fingers the blade tightly. Ishizu tells him to do exactly what Yami did and he does unflinchingly, eyes fixed on Yami's slightly dazed ones all the time.

"Are you okay?" He asks Yami, who nods.

Within moments, the CEO's vision goes blurry as he slowly slips to his knees. Ishizu continues with the ritual, though, and the last thing he sees before he loses consciousness is Yami smiling at him and slipping his eyes shut.

XXX

Seto blinks thrice before realizing that his head is throbbing. The sand burns his back almost instantly as he sits up, taking a quick glance of his new environment. He's in Egypt again—Ancient Egypt anyway but it looks unfamiliar. Like he hasn't been dreaming about this place since he followed Yami from Japan weeks ago. Speaking of Yami—where the hell is he?

Someone groans beside him and it's Yami. Thankfully. At least he doesn't have to search the entire place to look for the former monarch. Yami gasps and sits up, realizing where they are. He doesn't ask if Yami's alright, though, knowing there's nothing wrong with him. But when the brunet stands, he offers Yami a hand, intent on answering this crazed puzzle as fast as he can.

"We need to go to the palace," he tells Yami. At Yami's confused gaze, Seto rolls his eyes. "I invent games, Yami. Get your head out of the gutter. We have a couple to find."

That seems to do the job because Yami stands up, eyes back to its normal clarity. Alert like he usually is. Yami leads him north, obviously knowing where they are and continues to guide him until they see the palace in the distance. There are people everywhere and it fits perfectly where they are. The marketplace. Despite the crowd, they pass by unnoticed until they reach the palace.

In the main hall, they hear raised voices.

"Ra curse the day you have gotten so stubborn!"

It's Seth's voice.

"Leave me alone, Seth!"

Atemu.

Pharaoh and priest pass in front of their future counterparts, unaware of the commotion they're causing in the palace. The slaves are avoiding their path, heads bowed and postures hunched as if they can be invincible that way. Yami sees Mahado walk towards them, determined to stop them from arguing but he suddenly stops and turns to Yami instead. Yami stops though he knows Mahado cannot see him. But Mahado… oh God, he looks alive. Human. And Yami guesses he misses Mahado. _This _Mahado. The priest. The loyal best friend—Yami's ally in the past and in the present.

God, he misses Mahado so much!

"Yami." Seto interrupts as he starts to follow Seth and Atemu. Yami nods reluctantly and follows, his ears picking up the bickering duo's conversation.

"You could have died!" Seth roars, crowding Atemu, who's caught between the tree trunk and his angry cousin. Atemu glares at him.

"What was I supposed to do? Let Shadi die? The beast was about to kill him, Seth!" They're furious at each other and for different reasons, Seto realizes. He watches them in awe, their volatile tempers almost matching the intensity of his and Yami's verbal spars. He glances at Yami, knows he has reached the same conclusion.

Seth shakes his head in annoyance. "We can heal him. You weren't supposed to be there! What were you doing in that place?"

Atemu looks sheepish for a change even though his voice remains unapologetic. "I went out for some air."

"In the Red District? Are you out of your mind? Anyone could have recognized you and attack you, _pharaoh_."

"No one did so why are we even having this conversation?"

Seth and Seto stare at him, both incredulous. Then Seth slams his fist on the tree, knuckles breaking at the impact. He's livid. Yami winces sympathetically while Atemu's mask falls. He looks worriedly at his cousin.

"When's the last time you slept, cousin?" Seth inquires. Atemu stares in shock and if he had the space, he would have stepped back. Seth smirks t the reaction, antagonizing the pharaoh further. He yanks Atemu's hands, reveals the callouses he thought no one noticed. They're fairly new. They stare at each other, Atemu flushing angrily under his gaze. "I see you ride out every night. You leave the moment the guards outside your chamber shut the door. You always bring your dagger."

Atemu grabs his hands back, eyes ablaze.

"You're hallucinating."

"Am I?" the priest challenges "Then I may have hallucinated seeing the servants return your untouched food to the kitchens, huh?"

"Yes."

Seth narrows his gaze. Pushes Atemu harder and knows he'll find bruises where his fingers were on the pharaoh's chest. "Do. Not. Lie. To. Me."

Seto and Yami watch helplessly. See Atemu's body trembling, apparently considering this a fight-or-fight situation. Yami frowns, wonders what the pharaoh is dealing with to react so strongly.

"Stop!" Atemu shouts panicking. Labored breathing, shivering, eyes widening. The priest stares in horror. He pushes Seth away and visibly relaxes for a bit. "I dream of dying, Seth. To save this kingdom."

For a minute, Seth doesn't speak. Only stares until he gets to stutter:

"A-and?"

"I dream that it is you who kills me." With that, Atemu flees.

Seto and Yami stare at the direction Atemu has gone to, speechless. Behind them Seth leans on the tree. All of his anger somehow evaporating into ice cold dread.

Yami gasps out of the blue. A painful hitch of breath that catches the CEO's attention. When the brunet turns around, he falls on his knees, clutching his abdomen in pain. In an instant, they both vanish and re-appear without each other.

When the pain goes away, Seto realizes it's dark and freezing. He's outside the palace for sure and there's no sign of Yami anywhere. He curses and follows the only path available. They're too similar that upon catching glimpse of familiar tri-colored hair, he instantly calls him. Upon closer inspection, he watches Atemu put the hood up and sway a little. A little bit exaggerated. What the—Is he drunk?

"Sikh, you old fool, come here and be my company!" Atemu calls. The palace guard he's referring to laughs and jogs towards him. Sikh, Seto finds out, isn't old. He's probably two years older than the pharaoh and he has the unblemished looks of a youth.

"Does your father not look for you? Scribes have many tasks, don't you remember?" Sikh teases but pats the space beside him. Atemu frowns for a second then grins, plays the part of the happy drunk well. Seto stares at him, knowns now that he isn't drunk at all. His eyes do not show it. And he isn't any scribe's son, either. But Atemu pouts and grudgingly reveals a flask of wine from his robe. Sikh chuckles. "A gift, eh?"

"My father bought a barrel five years ago from some merchants. It tastes exotic," the pharaoh explains and takes a gulp. "Rare."

He stares at the palace guard under half-lidded eyes while Seto's guts flips in nervousness. He glances at Sikh, scowls at the barely concealed lust in the man's plain brown eyes. He thinks back to when Yami was assaulted several days ago. He shudders at the memory.

Sikh finds his voice later, raspier. "How does it taste?"

Atemu smirks. Leans in until his breath is ghosting over the guard's lips. Sikh gulps nervously at the distance. "Wouldn't you like to know, palace guard?"

"I would. Very much so, scribe," Sikh leans in, too. Closes the distance as his hands wrap around Atemu's neck. Seth, through it all, gapes. Stands in surprise. Confusion. Where the hell is Yami?

"Seto!" Yami calls in relief. A figure dashes past Seto.

"Atemu," Seth growls, pulling the hood down and catches the palace guard's eyes widen in abject terror. Atemu does, as well, but his cousin's grip is tight around his arm for him to even move. Yami gasps for breath beside Seto, his cheeks aflame with body heat. He has apparently ran all the way from wherever Seth was.

"You shall speak of this to no one," the High Priest warns and it's to his satisfaction that the guard nods fervently. "Leave."

Several futile attempts at escaping and struggling later, Seth drags Atemu into his private chamber. The Pharaoh's is farther so he headed to his own, instead.

"Let me go, Seth!"

The High Priest sighs and bodily slams Atemu to the door, shutting it tight. Atemu stares at him through the pain of the impact before renewing his struggles. He doesn't do much, though, since Seth already has both of his hands trapped at the sides of his head.

"Listen to me!" Seth exclaims and Atemu still immediately Although he doesn't cower, Atemu flinches. "Sikh is a spy."

" I know." The pharaoh mutters guiltily.

"It was a trap." Seth says matter-of-factly. Realizing, finally. His cousin nods, all the fight gone. Now he's just waiting for the priest to say his piece. Seth won't have that, however, as he lets Atemu go. Seth blows a sigh; wearily. "Go."

"What?" Yami and Seto responds.

"Seth?" Atemu reacts like he cannot believe it. Doesn't want to. He approaches his cousin and sighs sadly when Seth takes a step back. The tables are turned, apparently.

"You have no idea how hard it is to look after someone who's afraid of you" the priest confesses. He looks so open. _Honest._ "I can't keep pushing you when you'll always pull away. You have to push back, too, Atemu."

"Seth, what are you talking about?"

"I was only gone for three years. We were always antagonizing each other and when I come back, I find out you've learned to destroy yourself. What are you trying to do?"

Atemu chuckles darkly. "You try being left behind."

He doesn't voice it but everyone knows who he's talking about. Seth flinches. But he refuses to back down. "At least I didn't despise you."

"I never despised you! It was friendly competition. Antagonizing, true. But we are cousins, what do you expect? You were like a sibling to me, Seth."

"And now? What are we now?" Seth questions, stands his ground as Atemu comes closer. "Because what I feel for you isn't so platonic anymore, Atemu. It stopped being that way."

The pharaoh grins. More confident. The nightmare still lurks at the edges. As if he's equally terrified and attracted to the brunet. Then again, is that not what has happened in the past years in spite of the priest's absence? "Maybe… you're not just a cousin to me anymore, Seth."

Seth refuses to believe him.

"What happened to me killing you?"

"A nightmare that will never come true," Atemu answers and pulls Seth down for a kiss.

The thing is, Seto knows he should be looking away by now. Mystery solved, damsel saved; happily ever after going on. But he can't—CAN'T—look away. He watches as Seth cradles Atemu's face tenderly, as Atemu shuts his eyes and lets his hands lie simply on Seth's chest. He should leave as soon as Seth slowly undresses his cousin while Atemu nips his jaw. But Seto doesn't. Like he's stuck in a spell time has woven for him. Keeps him there standing. _Watching_. It's Yami's gasp that breaks the trance and he sags back. Relieved.

When Atemu pushes Seth on the bed and crawls up to him, starting a trail of chaste little kisses as he does, Yami looks away. Flustered. Uncomfortable, like he has caught his parents making love to each other. Worse. Like he's a voyeur in a couple's private time. He doesn't feel like he's Atemu anymore—and he doesn't, _isn't _affected by the groans Seth breathes out. The sounds Seth make him turn to Seto, whose gaze is still directed at the couple.

"Oh Ra…"

It isn't something produced by pleasure and that's what catches Yami's attention. He reluctantly walks towards the bed and gasps as he sees a long angry line mar the skin of Seth's left thigh. He also catches the horror on Atemu's face, stares as the pharaoh leans closer and kisses it softly. Seth hisses and drags him up for a hungrier kiss. More passionate. Devouring. Atemu moans when Seth's hand slips between his legs, wraps his manhood in a tight circle and squeezes hard. Not as hard as Atemu wants to, but hard enough to silence him. Seth's practically devouring Atemu's mouth now when Yami decides he's had enough.

"Seto, what are you waiting for? Come on. Let's go back."

He waits. But Seto doesn't move.

"Yami." Seto calls and it sounds ragged. Pained. "I can't move."

"What?"

"I can't—" Seto's gasp forces Yami to rush forward, catch the CEO as he falls to his knees. He's breathing hard as if he has a wound. When Yami touches something damp on the left leg of Seto's pants, his eyes widen in realization. Now the unhealthy warmth in Seto's cheeks and how his body shudders make sense.

"You've never—" Yami breathes hard as they stumble to the ground, Seto too heavy for him to bear just by crouching. "You forgot to repeat the phrase, didn't you? Damn it, Kaiba! You don't participate in blood rituals when you don't want to use phrases! They're testimonies of belief!"

But Seto isn't listening anymore. Eyes slipping shut way too fast, body trembling even more visibly.

Yami's panicking. Trying to hard to keep it together as he wraps his arms around Seto's frame. When he feels the familiar tug of the spell calling them back, he hugs Seto tighter and loses consciousness altogether.

TBC


End file.
